This Final Heaven
by Ms Starlight
Summary: In Ancient Trabia, a great hero passed on a legend of the end of time. In the future, a sorceress set the pieces moving. And in the present, an unlikely group of heroes stand alone against an unforgiving god. SeiferxQuistis, SquallxRinoa, IrvinexSelphie
1. Prologue: Legend

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy 8 and all related characters/places remain the sole property of Square-Enix.

A/N: Setting is post game, a few years. This is primarily plot driven but does contain significant Seiftis, Squinoa, and Selvine romance.

This Final Heaven

Prologue: Legend

_Ancient Trabia, Wilderness_

Snow was beginning to fall, drifting out of a black sky and fluttering in the heavy moonlight. Fires were burning. Somewhere, a dog was barking. And within a canvas tent hardly sufficient to ward off the cold, an old hero was spending his last hours in dignified repose.

Jorgan E'Lizul tightened the musky, fur coat around his shoulders and glanced to the north where he could just make out the glow of dozens of torches and several bonfires beyond the strange shadows of bristling pine. Even in the dark, work continued at a fevered pace. Artisans, stone masons, quarrymen, architects, priests, and soldiers were scrambling about, called to action by young King Zebalga II, who was new to the throne and attempting to recapture the zeitgeist of his grandfather's reign. He wanted people to recall troubled times. And, more than that, Zebalga II wanted them to remember that they owed their lives to his family.

Reviving that memory was Jorgan's mission. That was why he had sailed the treacherous waters near the barren salt flats, lost two of his chocobos in rocky mountain passes, and trekked through weeks worth of chilly tundra to reach this place: the cursed Tomb of Hyne the Magician -- soon to be the final resting place of Centra's greatest hero.

Jorgan descended into the camp across a barren expanse of windswept dirt.

"Stop!" a soldier barked and tilted a spear upon his hip to level it at Jorgan's heart. The solider glanced from Jorgan's miserable face, to his one remaining chocobo, and to the small entourage that accompanied him -- a young slave boy no more than fifteen and two members of the king's guard who were still wearing the green feathers in their hair that signified their station. "Who're you?" the solider asked.

"Jorgan E'Lizul." He made a small, perfunctory bow. "Palace scribe and historian for his majesty, the Lord Zebalga II, may he live forever and lead us in peace. This is my company."

"Why are you here?" The soldier seemed genuinely curious. He wasn't Centran but, judging from his accent and broad face, an ethnic Trabian. A rarity. A barbarian in the flesh.

"I've come to speak with Vascaroon, of course." Another barbarian.

"He's ill."

"Yes. I know."

Jorgan was admitted into Vascaroon's tent which was smaller on the inside than it appeared from without. A heavy flap separated the area into two rooms. Illuminated from behind, Jorgan could make out the broad silhouette of Vascaroon, seated with his back to the door. Jorgan pulled back the flap and introduced himself with the same obsequious lilt he used when addressing the king.

Vascaroon was well into his nineties, and he looked nothing like the statue that rested in the middle of Centra's capital. His hair, once flaming red, was now wispy and gray. His frame spoke in hazy breaths of once having possessed great power, and his hands and shoulders still appeared strong, but the rest had wasted away with time.

"Zebalga sent you?" Vascaroon asked.

"Yes. To record your story."

"My story?" Vascaroon was indignant. "Who doesn't already know it?"

Jorgan sat down on a wooden stool a few feet from the deflated hero. "You're the greatest man of our time," he said simply, "and you're dying."

"Not yet."

All of the fuss, all the building and activity around the Tomb of Hyne the Magician, was for this man's legacy. He didn't seem to appreciate it. And, at his age, Jorgan supposed he couldn't blame him. After all, he didn't believe in burial and had been conducted to this place against his will. The trip and the harsh weather had weakened him. Not long from now his time would pass, and with him the last living memory of the auspicious beginnings of the Centran Empire.

"Do you still recall the war?" Jorgan asked.

Vascaroon gave him a haunted look which said he did.

"And the Magician?"

"I haven't forgotten Hyne." Vascaroon settled deeper in his chair as if the memory of Hyne was crushing him.

Jorgan E'Lizul reached across the space between them and touched the legendary man on the arm. "Tell me what you know."


	2. Laguna's Dinner

Chapter 1: Laguna's Dinner

Laguna Loire leaned back in his chair, propped his feet up onto his desk, and folded his arms behind his head. To the left of his boot he could see his assistant, Sam, going through a long list scribbled in pencil on a yellow legal pad. Laguna was bored just looking at it, which he could see had "Economic Summit" written at the top in all capital letters. They had already been reviewing Esthar's economic policies for two hours, and Laguna hadn't even cracked the top ten.

Being in government at peace time, he decided, was horridly boring.

Things hadn't always been this way. Once upon a time, when he'd first been elevated to his position, everything about Esthar had been a-buzz with change. Life had been dynamic then, a rollercoaster of passions and adventures. Fear did that to people. And if the Sorceress Adel had been adept at anything, it was inspiring fear. Laguna had coasted to power after her cataclysmic reign and defeat. Since then, he had seen political tensions rise to a fever pitch between Esthar and Galbadia, a lunar cry, and a second sorceress war. Presently, stronger from what it had recently endured, Esthar was plugging along brightly and all the analysts Laguna had were calling for smooth sailing to the horizon.

He twitched his big toe and watched the bump it created rise and fall in his shoe. Privately, he daydreamed of stepping down, releasing himself from this burden. Micromanagement wasn't exactly his forte. He imagined that he would go back to writing for _Timber Maniacs_ and travel the world. Laguna wasn't the sort of man who could stay still long – that was why he'd joined the military in the first place. Being president hadn't really led him to any new and exciting places. Rather, he hadn't been outside the shielded expanse of the city in months.

"Sir?"

"Hmm? Sorry?" Laguna snapped to attention, knocking his stapler off the side of the desk. It made a loud, metallic thunk as it hit the ground and sprang open, scattering staples across the floor. Sam seemed almost pained looking down at the mess.

"Aside from the summit, the…uh…new Galbadian President has expressed interest in meeting with you," Sam said, looking exasperated as if thinking, _Why on earth would anyone want to meet with you?_

"What's he want to meet about?" Laguna asked. "It's not one of those damn diplomatic brunches, is it?"

"I'm sure the last thing he wants is dinner by candlelight, Sir."

Laguna rolled his eyes. "So, what does he want?"

The new president elect in Galbadia, Jack Krier, was a former military commander originally from a small desert town near D-District prison. Laguna hadn't worked with Krier during his time in the Galbadian army, but he'd heard of him nonetheless. Jack Krier was in many ways the antithesis of Laguna. In fact, he wasn't sure that they could even exist in the same room without spontaneously annihilating one another. Krier was the consummate military man, starched and stern with time tables and objectives for everything. Laguna had always been a more of a roll-with-the-punches kind of guy. Flexibility and independence were always positive traits, he thought.

"We don't really know," Sam replied. "But we were told by his people that he'd like to meet on neutral ground."

"Neutral ground, huh?" Laguna pursed his lips. "Do they have any suggestions?" He imagined some place exotic. A small, remote tropical island perhaps with vast underground meeting rooms complete with plexi-glass windows that bats would occasionally wing past and waxy limestone stalagmites.

It was a beautiful dream, until Sam said, "Balamb."

"Balamb?" Laguna was almost disappointed. He'd been meaning to take a trip to Balamb for months, spend a little time in the sun, get a little fishing done. He hesitated to think that Squall might welcome him into Garden, but perhaps if he were with Ellone… "I think we could fit it into my schedule. What do you think?"

Sam leafed momentarily through a planner. "Looks like your schedule is wide open, Sir."

"Right." Laguna waved a hand importantly. "Tell the Galbadians that I'll meet with Krier, and set everything up."

"Would you like me to contact Balamb Garden?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

In the years since Adel had been vanquished inside the Lunatic Pandora and the sorceress Ultimecia had been defeated, Laguna had only seen his son a few cursory times when the paths of Esthar and Balamb Garden had crossed. He wanted to sit down and explain to Squall why he'd left Winhill, why he'd never come to the orphanage for him; but somehow they never managed to discuss anything important. The more time passed, the more difficult talking became. Maybe it was already too late.

Still, Ellone would want to see her brother. And he would want to see her.

"Yeah. Make sure Squall knows I'll be bringing Ellone along." He didn't have to feel guilty about piggy-backing on their good relationship. He refused to.

Sam scribbled in his planner.

"No hint about what Krier wants?

"None." Sam shrugged. "But he _is_ a brand new President. Maybe he's trying to make friends."

Esthar and Galbadia weren't really enemies per-say, but they were never really on the same side either. Still, Laguna, a Galbadian, was president of Esthar. Stranger things had happened.

"Do the people want that?" Laguna wondered aloud, already knowing the answer. The people of Esthar really only wanted to be left alone. They didn't have alliances with anyone and never had. Why start now?

In any case, he wasn't nearly as concerned about Galbadia as he was about Squall. Under the desk, he could already feel the muscle in his calf beginning to spasm and tighten.

"I've got a few more things…" Sam ticked something off on his list.

"Is any of it important?" Laguna asked, grunting a little as the cramp intensified. He could tell Sam was irritated by the question but didn't really care. He needed to get up and walk off the cramp. He wanted out of the office. "I mean...is it anything that you actually _need_ me for?"

The question was a loaded one. Sam answered carefully. "I suppose we could handle things without you."

"Great." Laguna circled around the desk and clapped the man affectionately on the shoulder. "You're a good man, Sam." A childish part of Laguna chuckled at the rhyme.

"Um…thank you."

"Feel free to use my office to get whatever you need done," Laguna smiled brightly, then hobbled for the door as fast as his cramped leg would take him.

The plush hallway of the presidential palace greeted him with a blessedly empty yawn. Laguna stopped to lean against the wall and turned his wedding ring around on his finger. Did it still count, he wondered, since they hadn't actually married? He sighed and thought of Raine, remembering their soft and tender love in a time when his life was full of passionate possibility. Squall was all that remained now of their bond.

His muscle clenched painfully one last time. He hadn't been so nervous in years.

0 0 0

Squall cursed as Angelo shoved her head under his hand, making his pen scratch across the paper in a wild arc. Undaunted, Angelo began licking his arm, slicking the hairs back in the wrong direction. She smelled vaguely of filth overlaid with the sheen of Rinoa's feathery perfume.

"Dammit, Angelo!" Squall shoved her away and rubbed the wet spot on his arm. The dog continued to stare up at him, her butt wiggling with the sheer joy of coming into the room and finding him there. For a dog extensively trained in rescue and attack, Angelo was really pretty stupid, Squall thought. He looked down at her, and her wide brown eyes looked right back.

"What?" he demanded.

Her ears perked up and her head titled slightly to one side.

Squall sighed. "I'm busy. What do you want?"

"Are you talking to me?" Rinoa called from the bathroom.

"No!" Squall yelled to her.

"Who _are_ you talking to?" she yelled back.

"Angelo. She's staring at me." The dog's unwavering look was beginning to give Squall the creeps. Angelo was very much Rinoa's dog and had never shown much interest in him. They had always been somewhat at odds, both after the same thing. And more often than not, Angelo was the one who ended up snuggled against Rinoa's side at night.

She peeked into the room, a few large curlers still hanging from her hair. "Oh! Look at that." Rinoa smiled. "I told you she likes you."

Rinoa's head quickly vanished back into the bathroom.

"What are you working on, anyway?"

"Paperwork," he replied. "All this security is a nightmare. What's Esthar think we're going to do? Kill him ourselves?" Ever since Squall had received word that Laguna Loire, president of Esthar and his father, was coming to Balamb, he'd been mired in a mountain of paperwork and phone calls. And Squall was not the sort of man who appreciated details or chats on the phone. He hated all of it, and hated it more because he was doing it for Laguna.

"Well," Rinoa floated out of the bathroom, smelling like early spring tulips, "it _does_ sort of seem like you might try." She wrapped her arms around him from behind and dropped her head down to kiss him on the cheek.

"Whatever."

"Oh come on, Squall." Rinoa stood back, flipping her hair out of her face. "Aren't you even excited to see Ellone?"

"Of course!" He started to become defensive. Ellone had been the only person he'd cared about for a long time. She'd always mean the world to him.

Rinoa put her hands firmly on her hips. "Then go to this thing for her. And for me." She tilted her head to one side, looking strikingly like Angelo for a moment. "I know all about having a dad who's not there for you, you know. At least Laguna wants to be there for you now. You've got to give him some credit."

Rinoa didn't always practice what she preached. She, for what it was worth, was still estranged from her own father who was living alone in his vast Deling City mansion.

"I never said I wasn't going to go. But I don't have to like it."

Everyone else in Garden was thrilled over the visit. Zell, Selphie, Irvine, and Quistis had all turned up to see them. Selphie even returned early from a mission when word reached her. The four had been buzzing for days about resurfacing memories of their childhood together, the various times each of them had spent in Esthar, and Laguna's old _Timber Maniacs_ articles Selphie had posted on the Garden network. She was particularly overjoyed at the prospect of seeing Laguna. Squall couldn't understand why she still saw him as valiant knight in shining armor and not as the bumbling fool he really was.

"Oh." Rinoa grinned. "I see. Big tough Squall who doesn't need anybody, is it?"

"I have everybody I need right here." He motioned to her and, begrudgingly, to Angelo.

"That's sweet." She patted Angelo's head. "Stupid, but sweet."

Rinoa turned her attention toward the closet, ready to rummage through her massive collection of dresses to find the perfect one. Inevitably, she would try on at least ten of them, change her mind an equal number of times, ask Angelo's and then Squall's opinion, and then decide on the exact opposite of whatever he advised. Squall figured he had at least an hour before he had to even think about getting ready to leave.

Exhausted from the sleepless nights he'd spent up worrying over this dinner and having to come face to face with his "father" again, Squall curled up on the bed and was soothed into a quick power nap by Rinoa's soft humming.

He woke up some time later when there was a knock on the door to find Angelo curled warmly against the small of his back and drool just beginning to collect in the side of his mouth. Bleary eyed and disoriented, he rolled over to see Rinoa open the door and Quistis walk in. She was wearing a long black dress and her hair was up, a few golden curls trailing down around her face, and hoop earrings brushing against her neck. Embarrassed to be caught napping, Squall sat up and tried to pretend he hadn't been asleep at all, unaware of the vivid red sheet marks on his cheek.

Quistis smirked at him for a moment, and then said to Rinoa, "I just dropped by for an opinion. I'm not sure how formal this thing is going to be."

"Me neither!" Rinoa admitted. "I'm glad you're here. Listen, what do you think about these two? I've been debating forever now."

Quistis gave both dresses Rinoa held up an analytical look and then rendered her opinion in painstaking detail, making Squall's groggy head spin. Why did getting dressed have to be such a big deal? His SeeD uniform was hanging on a hangar on the closet door, ready for him to put on and leave.

"There aren't uniforms for girls," Rinoa had once argued with him when he'd complained about her angst over clothing. The disagreement had only become more heated when he'd pointed out that, in fact, she _did_ have a perfectly good SeeD uniform. He'd been glad to drop the conversation at the first opportunity and wasn't about to bring it up again.

"Squall," Rinoa turned to him. "You'd better get ready. We've got to leave in a few minutes."

Quistis and Rinoa had evidently decided upon a short, powder blue dress and were now beginning to pick out matching accessories. As she scolded him, Rinoa pulled off her bathrobe and wriggled into her dress in a scene of such informal near-nudity that Squall's thoughts momentarily screeched to a halt. He heard Quistis zip the back of his girlfriend's dress up.

"Hurry, Squall."

Trying not to think about Rinoa and Quistis dressing or…_un_dressing one another, Squall grabbed his uniform and retreated to the bathroom to change. By the time he emerged, Quistis was gone and Rinoa was buckling a pair of strappy heels.

"We're going to be late!" She pushed him out the door as she put her earrings in. Squall reached out to touch one of them, pulling a little on the dangling bauble and dimly amused at the way it swung and sparkled. She looked beautiful.

"Be a good girl, Angelo!" Rinoa called back as the door slid closed behind them.

Squall sighed and, looking around to be sure no one was watching, kissed her gently. "Can't we just go back in?"

Rinoa shook her head and looped her arm through his. Together, they met the other four in front of the Garden directory. Zell and Irvine, Squall noted, were both in their SeeD uniforms, although Irvine was still persistently wearing his Galbadian Garden uniform. He'd never been officially discharged from that academy, and in perfect Irvine fashion wasn't quite willing to commit himself to Balamb. Selphie was at his elbow, wearing his hat and a long yellow dress with a slit going halfway up one side.

Laguna was throwing a lavish dinner at the Balamb Hotel, a prelude to the political meeting which would take place the next day. Strictly speaking, Squall and company where guests of Laguna and liaisons for Balamb Garden should any deal be brokered. Squall hated this sort of diplomatic pandering, even if it did provide a convenient excuse for the whole gang to get together again.

The car ride into Balamb was uncomfortable. The excitement and fast chatter of his friends aggravated Squall's already frayed nerves. He hadn't been in the same room as Laguna for more than a few minutes since the war and he'd hoped to avoid it for the rest of his life. His issues of abandonment were much too deep, and he wasn't exactly eager to work through them. He'd lived for over twenty years without a father. He didn't need one now.

Balamb was bustling with activity when they arrived. The hotel was illuminated with vast chains of purple and blue lights and winked on and off like a great swarm of fireflies. In their Garden car, they were flagged past the first bit of security and directed toward the back of the hotel where the security team was assembling. There they were briefed, given a cursory identity check, and allowed to go inside.

Rinoa gripped hard on Squall's arm, her body moving close to his as they climbed the steps toward the banquet room. She was unusually quiet amidst the flurry of giggles emanating from Selphie and the calm droning of Quistis. Squall, happy to just have someone supporting him through this event, tucked her close.

"Oh wow! Look at that! It's beautiful." Selphie skipped into the banquet room which was set with multiple round tables, all covered in thick white linen and beach themed decorations. Laguna stood in the middle of it all, wearing sandals, a sea foam green shirt half unbuttoned, and loose white pants. His hair was pulled back but still managed to look messy. When he saw them walk in he smiled and waved.

"Sir Laguna!" Selphie launched herself at him, settling into his arms for a big bear hug that lifted her a good foot off the ground and tipped Irvine's hat off her head.

The others he met with somewhat less exuberance: a handshake for Irvine, a friendly back-slap for Zell, and a casual embrace for Quistis. When he came to Squall his hands buried themselves in his pockets and he rocked back onto his heels.

"Squall…hi," he said lamely.

"Hi."

"Listen…I'd really like to talk to you after this. I know you probably don't want to, but…I'd uh…we'll…you could just listen. If you want."

Squall looked away and shrugged. "Whatever."

Frowning just a little, Laguna put his bright face back on for Rinoa. "Nice to see you again, Rinoa. Listen, I've got to go talk to the Galbadians for a bit. But I definitely want to see you two later." He held up a single finger as a physical indication of their engagement, and then rushed off to attend to whatever business he had.

Squall and Rinoa made an attempt at mingling, both of them getting punch and enjoying some hors d'oeuvres. Over the top of his punch glass, he surveyed the crowd. Looking around, Squall wondered not for the first time why Esthar and Galbadia were talking in the first place. Esthar wasn't exactly a friendly country. They preferred to be left alone by both their enemies and their friends.

Facing away from him, Squall spotted a woman with short, chocolate brown hair. She wore a white dress with a blue jacket and yellow sneakers rather than dress shoes. Squall felt a rush of relief.

_Ellone._

Leaving Rinoa at the refreshment table where she had fallen into conversation with some long lost Galbadian friend, Squall went to greet his sister. She turned just as he reached her. In her right hand, she held a small flute of champagne which was more for appearance than anything else. The glass was full; Ellone didn't drink. It tipped a little as she threw out one arm and wrapped it around his shoulders.

"Squall." She grinned and his heart lightened.

0 0 0

Quistis chewed on a green olive she'd fished out of her drink and looked around for someone – _anyone_ – she knew. Irvine and Selphie had vanished into the crowd. Even Zell, who should have stood out like a sore thumb, was nowhere to be seen. _Alone, as usual_, she thought.

"Good evening." A deep, rumbling voice erupted just behind her.

She spun around to find a tall, physically imposing older man. A sigh managed to escape past her lips. _Why can't I ever attract a man my own age?_ Quistis had a special appeal to the middle-aged crowd.

"Jack Krier," he introduced himself, proffering one meaty hand. Quistis was surprised. She only vaguely recalled Krier's election, and this certainly wasn't what she'd envisioned. His broad shoulders filled his black suit and would have stretched the seams had the jacket not been tailor made (which was evident from the man's initials sewn onto the inside of the cuffs). Across his chin was a shadow of stubble that looked deliberate or perhaps simply unavoidable as a perpetual five o'clock shadow. His hair was dark and slicked back. The hand Quistis took gripped was rough but warm.

"_President_ Krier?" she asked, just to be sure.

"One and only."

"I'm Quistis Trepe."

"Ah…" Recognition flashed through his gray eyes. She wondered whether he knew her name, or if he'd seen the humiliating Galbadian broadcast from years ago when Seifer had kidnapped his predecessor. "I'm glad that Balamb agreed to host this event." He slipped into business. "Your commander has been more than generous with his time."

"Squall?" Generous wasn't the first adjective that came to mind when Quistis thought about her former student.

"Yes. He's…President Loire's son then?" Krier asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Sort of," Quistis shrugged and took a sip from her glass.

"And _you_ are SeeD." He seemed amused by this.

"You have SeeDs in Galbadia."

"Mmm…yes. But none quite like you." There it was. The flirting. What did he want from her anyway?

If Krier noticed how uncomfortable he was making his companion in conversation, he didn't show it.

"I'm very excited that there's finally a bridge between Galbadia and Esthar," he began, slipping into politics again. "Having a Galbadian President in Esthar offers us a unique opportunity to find some common ground, don't you think? Together, Galbadia and Esthar will be able to accomplish things neither country could on their own. I know that these talks are going to usher us into a great new age."

Was that what he was after, Quistis wondered. An alliance? He had to realize that Esthar would never accept political bonds with any other country, whether Laguna wanted them or not, and had just opened her mouth to say so when he changed track again.

"Would you care for another drink?" He stopped a passing waitress and selected something pink in a stubby glass and handed it to Quistis.

She was mildly insulted by the choice – of course a man like him would assume she only consumed _pink_ beverages – but was too stymied by his constant changes in direction to offer a good response.

"You must feel very privileged to have been there in the moment when Squall defeated the Sorceress."

Quistis hesitated to insist that Squall hadn't taken on Ultimecia alone; and was too ashamed to admit that, in fact, she'd been knocked cold before the end of the battle and had spent the remainder spiraling through time compression only to be dumped on the beach near the orphanage some time later. Dizziness and disorientation still sometimes struck her like a space-time tidal wave. "It's not a privilege I'd wish upon my enemies," she finally said.

"There is peace now because of you," he replied. "The Sorceresses are all defeated."

"Well, there's still Rinoa." It slipped out before Quistis had the good sense to keep the fact to herself. Krier smiled as if she'd offered him a particularly juicy bone.

"I mean, of course, all the _evil_ Sorceresses."

"Of course."

That was one thing Galbadia and Esthar now had in common -- a mutual hatred of sorceresses. Edea had changed the Galbadians from a nation of people who daydreamed about magic and knights into one that feared them. Quistis remembered watching romantic movies about tall, dark men in glittering armor when she was young, hardly able to understand the actors with their thick west Galbadian accents, but nonetheless enchanted by the idea of selfless loyalty. The knight always died in the end, his bloody head falling into the sorceresses lap where she cradled it in the folds of her white robe. The bitter reality of a sorceress more shadow than light, and a knight who lived his life with the same verve as a raging brush fire had sobered the Galbadian fantasy. With Jack Krier the people had elected a leader both hard and powerful. He was a bulwark against another hostile takeover.

So, Quistis regarded him with a healthy dose of suspicion as he spoke of Rinoa, the last remaining sorceress.

"I haven't had the pleasure of meeting her yet," he said. "Is she here?"

"Afraid I haven't seen her."

"She's the daughter of our own General Caraway, you know. I served under him briefly. Brilliant man. I'd love to meet his only daughter."

"Rinoa doesn't take after her father much," Quistis shrugged. "I don't think you'd see a resemblance."

"Consider it a courtesy." He reached out and touched her elbow. "You'll introduce us if you see her?"

Quistis was intensely relieved when, at that moment, Laguna burst forth from the crowd and blew over their conversation like a whirlwind.

"Quistis!" He threw an arm around her shoulders. "I see you've met President Krier. Quite the charmer, isn't she, Jack? Having a good time?" The last question he directed at Quistis, peeking into her drink. Laguna and Krier were both men who commanded attention, but in social circumstances Quistis sensed Laguna had the upper hand.

"Very charming, indeed." Krier smiled faintly.

Laguna's arm was warm and heavy around Quistis. Protective, she thought. Was he afraid of Jack Krier?

"Which is exactly why I'd like to introduce her to a few of my people. If you don't mind, that is," Laguna said, although he was already ushering Quistis away.

"What was that about?" she asked, trying not to spill her drink as Laguna shuffled her toward a table where Zell and Selphie were already sitting. Zell had a plate of cocktail sausages and was stuffing them down his throat as Selphie cheered him on.

"You shouldn't fornicate with the enemy."

"_Fornicate_?!"

"Oh...you know what I mean! I don't know what he wants. And I don't want him knowing things about Esthar he shouldn't, you know?"

Quistis shook her head. Sometimes, she wondered what Esthar was trying to hide. In the past two years she'd spent a significant amount of time there -- pastel robes and all -- and hadn't found anything worth keeping secret.

"Why don't you find Ellone," Laguna suggested. "She's really been looking forward to seeing you all again. Especially Squall." As his son's name rolled off his lips, Laguna became distracted. "Have you seen him? I told him I wanted to talk to him."

_He's probably halfway to Timber by now_, Quistis thought.

Like a problem child, she was sat down on the other side of Zell who flashed her a meaty grin that smelled so strong of sausage Quistis nearly fell backward in her chair. Selphie laughed, her yellow lacquered nails biting into her cheeks as she fought to stifle her glee. _Perfect._ Only Quistis could go in a matter of seconds from wining and dining the president of Galbadia to the kids' table.

Laguna hovered over them like a mother chocobo, fluttering here and there with his eyes always on the crowd, watching for Squall's shining mane of hair. Deliberately ignoring Zell and Selphie, Quistis watched Krier move through the room. He was confident in every step and radiated power. He touched base with almost everyone, she noticed. Really made the rounds. He'd introduce himself, smile and shake hands, then move on. Only those from Garden or who were part of the official Esthar delegation warranted more than five minutes of courteous attention. Until one man, another Galbadian, walked up and grabbed him by the arm.

Quistis' back straightened and her hands unconsciously gripped the edge of the table.

She saw the new man wave an arm, stamp a foot, and step into Krier's personal space. They would have been nose to nose if Krier hadn't been so tall. The commotion was beginning to draw the attention of everyone around them, including Zell who paused in his chewing with his jaw slack.

"God dammit!" she heard as the Galbadian shook his head.

Squall, with the same unnerving sense of timing his father had, chose this moment to appear with Ellone at his side. He put a gloved hand on her arm as he walked with purpose toward the squabbling pair.

Noticing Squall, Krier grabbed the smaller man by the shoulders and spoke firmly to him. Even across the room, Quistis could make out the veins pulsing in his neck and temples. Quistis, along with everyone else, gasped and shot up from her seat when the smaller man stepped back and then took a swing at the president, landing a lusty blow to Krier's jaw that made his head snap back. Squall pushed through the crowd, his free hand going to his waist where it grasped at air. Weapons weren't permitted, even by SeeDs, at this high profile meeting.

"Holy shit," Zell squeaked out past a mouthful of food. "Did you see that? Did you _see_ that?"

Krier recovered quickly from the hit and responded the way any military man would. Quistis saw his shoulders bunch, saw the material of his expensive blazer stretch and mold as he drew one arm back. The other man, for all his zest, wouldn't be able to take a punch from Jack Krier.

"Stop!" Quistis cried, holding one hand out.

She felt the spell move down her arm before she even realized that she'd cast it. A blue green haze obscured her vision as the rest of the world slowed around her. Her heartbeat pulsed loud and slow even as her fingers and palm burned with energy. And then just as quickly the spell was gone, flying across the room. She saw it hit Krier and the Galbadian, drawing their eyes up into the back of their heads and causing their muscles for one split second to visibly cramp.

They froze, Krier's fist inches from the Galbadian. And Squall came up next to them, still grabbing for the gunblade he'd left at home.

0 0 0

Squall gazed at the two prone forms in front of him, his blood still raging, and looked past them to find Quistis there with her hand still held out from the spell she had cast. Laguna, Zell, and Selphie stood with her, their mouths slack with horror. Had Quistis really just cast a spell on the President of Galbadia? This was going to be a nightmare. Squall could already see the piles of letters appearing on his desk, the apologies he would have to make. The entire crowd was hushed, also seeming frozen by the power of Quistis' single command. For a long moment, no one dared to breathe. Then, finally, Rinoa appeared.

"Oh my God! Squall!" Her high pitched squeal threw the room into noisy chaos. Somewhere in the midst of it all, Rinoa cast esuna on the battling pair.

Krier stumbled and blinked, confused but otherwise unharmed. The Galbadian, on the other hand, collapsed into a heap in the dying glow of the spell.

"What the hell? _Quistis_?!" Squall hauled the Galbadian to his feet. The blonde was jogging toward him as fast as her black heels could take her. "What were you thinking?"

Her mouth opened, then closed. "He was going to hit him!" she finally said.

"_Why_ are you even junctioned?" Squall ground out, furious and sticking his face close to hers. He could smell fruity alcohol on her breath.

"You mean you're not?" she hissed.

Zell and Irvine crowded around them, the later taking the Galbadian's other arm.

He didn't have time to deal with this. Now he'd be stuck making amends with the Galbadians all night. He'd be lucky if he even got time to sit down and eat, not to mention Garden might never get a job in that half of the world again. He wouldn't even have time to...

Squall's mind paused and he even froze in place. Krier was staring, his fist still clenched and a dazed look in his eyes. Krier and...Laguna walking over to him, ready to begin the extensive apologies. Laguna..._Laguna!_ Suddenly, the situation didn't seem quite so dire.

Ellone ran from Squall's arm and into Laguna's waiting embrace. He pulled her close in an off-hand sort of way. Fatherly.

"Right." Squall gave Quistis a look he hoped was scathing, then barked to Irvine: "Lets take this man into custody." Hiding a small smile of relief, which Rinoa spotted and angrily crossed her arms at, Squall walked away, off to do something he was infinitely more comfortable with than the fancy dresses, cocktails, and diplomacy: confront a hardened criminal.

Well...maybe not a hardened criminal, Squall reflected as he and Irvine drug the Galbadian out of the hotel ballroom and across the hall through a door marked "Employees Only." He was still shaken, terrified as he looked back and forth between the two SeeDs. They had a reputation. Finding a SeeD on your doorstep, or worse, finding yourself suddenly in the custody of two, was the common plot of civilian action movies and not the sort of thing anyone figured _really_ happened. Irvine swept a box of blank timecards off a folding metal chair sitting pushed up against the wall and planted the man in it.

"Oh no..." he moaned, covering his face with his hands.

"Hey, calm down," Irvine commanded. "It's not the end of the world."

They'd all attacked their share of world leaders in their time.

"Yeah. We just want to talk is all." Squall tried his best to sound reassuring.

The man shook his head and began to cry softly. It was hardly the reaction Squall had expected, especially after his aggression against Krier only moments before. In amongst all the snot and tears, all Squall could make out was the occasional "Hyne" and "doomed." He was right to address a higher power; he'd need one if Krier was feeling unforgiving.

"What's your name?" Irvine asked, crouching down a little.

"Robert Shipey." He looked up at them then, nose bulbous and red, his eyes wet and swollen. It was disgusting. Squall folded his arms and looked impassive.

"Alright. Do you have a job?" Irvine continued.

Shipey nodded.

"And...?"

"I'm a professor...at Deling University," he muttered, seemingly just as displeased with his answer as Squall was. "I've been contracted by the Galbadian Government as an expert."

"Expert on what?"

"Ancient Centra. Or, really, Ancient Centran. You know. The language." As he entered into a realm of conversation more comfortable he visibly began to calm and spoke with more strength. "We've finally got enough samples from around the world that we've been able to work backwards from the languages in Dollet and Esthar to reconstruct Ancient Centran. We can finally read all the inscriptions, all the ancient parchments..."

Ancient Centran? Squall couldn't even begin to imagine what a university professor had to do with Krier.

"And you've been contracted by the Galbadian government?" Squall asked.

"Two years ago."

"To do what?"

"That's..." he hesitated. "I can't..." He licked his lips and looked from Squall to Irvine and back again. "He's cutting me out of the project. He's not listening anymore."

"Is that what the fight was about?" Squall asked. "Krier's not consulting you?"

"No. He's not listening at all." Shipey blew threw his teeth. "He's taking over the whole project."

"Serious thing, attacking the president like that," Irvine counseled. "He could throw you in prison forever, you know."

"No. The work I'm doing is too important for that."

"Wouldn't count on that, Professor."

Squall leaned back on his heels, wondering why Shipey was at this dinner in the first place. He was about to ask when the door opened behind him.

"Mr. Leonheart." A black-suited, serious man came into the room followed by two more. "This man attacked the President of Galbadia. We appreciate your help in this matter, but we're here to take him into custody." The one in front, apparently the ring-leader, flashed Squall a badge that identified him as Galbadian secret service. Since the Vinzer Deiling fiasco, the Galbadian secret service had been significantly beefed up. They were no longer the bumbling rank and file of the army, but an elite force of highly trained goons. A few years ago, Squall might have felt intimidated. As it was, he turned and crossed his arms, irritated.

"We'll hand him over when we're done with him," he replied. "You'll have to wait."

"I'm afraid we can't do that." The man motioned to his companions, who pushed into the room and pulled Shipey up off his chair.

"I think you're forgetting where you are," Squall said and blocked the door. "Balamb is Garden's territory. This man is under our umbrella until we release him to you."

From behind, he felt a firm hand grip his shoulder and squeeze.

"What's going on here?" Krier asked.

"Just trying to get some answers, Sir." Squall had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he turned to face the president. Krier looked over his shoulder at the three secret service men surrounding Shipey.

"I'm sorry." He gave Squall a diplomatic smile. "This is my fault. I told my men here to take Mr. Shipey off your hands. Garden doesn't need to be involved in this squabble." The hand still gripping Squall's shoulder guided him out of the doorway.

"Squabble?"

"Yes. I fired him."

"Why?"

"His committee was just sucking up resources without giving anything back." Krier and Shipey eyed one another as the secret service men led him from the room, his hands pinned behind his back and twisted at an odd angle. "Something about translating ancient documents. Not the sort of thing worth our tax payer's money in today's world. So, I dissolved the project. Mr. Shipey was distraught, but apparently more than I realized."

"Then why is he here in the first place?" It was a brusque question to ask the president of the world's second most powerful nation.

"He's an important figure in Galbadia," Krier said. "Don't worry about him. Galbadia can handle its own matters. Feel free to go back to dinner. I know you must value this time with your father."

The President shoved his hands into his tight pockets and sauntered casually after his men. Squall bristled. Bringing up Laguna had been a low blow.

"That was weird..." Irvine reached behind his head and tightened his ponytail.

"They must be hiding something," Squall replied.

"What? Some old history book from the damn dark ages? Who cares? I think they're just paranoid. They've been paranoid ever since Edea killed Deling." The assassination of a president did have a way of putting a country on its toes.

"But this is a dumb thing to be secretive about," Squall shook his head. "I think there's something more."

"Maybe these books say something like Galbadians and Estharans are related," Irvine said. "That'd put a kink in things, wouldn't it?" He thought about the idea for a moment and shook his head. "Just can't see what Ancient Centrans would have to say that would be interesting."

They walked back to the dining room where the rumble of voices and flatware against plates struck a dissonant chord to Squall's darkening inner thoughts. Shipey, in some way he couldn't quite pinpoint, had deeply disturbed him. He found the two sides of the man he'd seen difficult to reconcile -- an academic punching a world leader at a political conference. The story Krier had given him, that Shipey had recently been fired, didn't sit well either. He was still deep in thought when Rinoa pulled him down into the seat next to her at Laguna's table.

"I saved you a seat." Directly between her and Laguna, he noticed. Selphie, Zell, Quistis, Ellone, and now Irvine were all seated there as well. It must have looked strange to the other guests, seeing the president of Esthar seated at a table of twenty-somethings, three of whom were easily recognizable as SeeDs.

Laguna leaned over. "Glad to see you could make it, Squall."

"I need to talk to you," Squall announced, wincing when he heard how it came out and the glaze of delight it produced on Laguna's face.

"Yes. Fantastic. I'm glad you agreed." Ellone leaned around Laguna's other side and beamed at her brother.

Deep down, Squall uttered every curse word he'd ever heard and made up a few of his own. He hadn't meant a father-son chat, more like a military debriefing. But the faces of everyone around him were glowing with his seeming acceptance of Laguna, so he tried to put on a pleasant countenance. Difficult as it was, he managed a small, painful smile. He still had to resist the desire to roll into the safe little emotional shell he'd lived the majority of his life inside. As soon as everyone looked away, absorbed back into dinner chatter, he closed the walls around him. Whatever...he didn't have to talk about anything _personal_ anyway. He'd just make his report and leave.

A plate was already set out for Squall. He had the same thing as everyone else: steak smothered in dark, sticky sauce, a baked potato topped with a dollop of sour cream and chives, a slice of chocolate cheese cake, and a glass of water. Picking up his knife, he sawed his steak in half and tried to ignore Rinoa, who was talking about her time as part of the resistance in Timber and petting Squall's knee with her free hand. Over the rim of his water glass, he noticed Krier and his men come back into the dining room. Krier waved to Squall, then sat himself between two men dressed in Galbadian army regalia. They certainly hadn't taken long to deal with Shipey. He hoped they hadn't just taken him out back and shot him.

"What do you think of Jack Krier?" Laguna asked quietly, noticing his son's riveted attention.

"Not sure yet."

Dinner was over more quickly than Squall would have liked. He took his sweet time finishing his cheesecake, savoring every last bite while the catering staff kept drifting by to take plates, each eyeing him with thinly veiled hostility. Finally, he couldn't waste any more time, and the moment his fork touched the edge of the plate a man appeared out of nowhere and swept it away.

"I'm going to go make nice with the Galbadians before we go," Quistis announced, pushing back her chair.

Squall saw his opportunity and pushed out his own chair, ready to join her, but didn't get the chance to so much as stand up before Laguna's arm came down over his shoulders and rested there, filled with all the tension between them. Even such simple contact between them was a significant and weighty thing. "We can talk in my room," Laguna said. "If we're not done before everyone else has to leave, my people can take you back to Garden."

Squall agreed. No one seemed to notice as they got up together and left. It was strange and awkward being alone with Laguna. They had never really been alone together before. Ellone, Kiros, or Ward were never far away. Now, walking in silence together through empty hotel hallways, Squall was getting nervous. Even frightened. _I'll say what I have to say right away_, he decided. _Just get it out, then maybe we'll get caught up in business._

Laguna's suite was plush and expansive, complete with a kitchenette, living room, and hot tub. Sighing, Laugna sat down on the couch and, rubbing the back of his calf, motioned for Squall to sit down as well. He chose a chair across the coffee table from Laguna, a comfortable distance, and launched into what needed to be said.

"I thought you should know what happened with the man who attacked Krier," he said.

Laguna looked genuinely surprised. "You do?"

"His name is Robert Shipey. He's been working for the Galbadians...deciphering ancient documents or something for the past two years. Krier says he was recently fired."

Laguna whistled. "That's rough. Bad enough having to fire someone...but then something like that happens."

"Well, we were questioning him, trying to find out why he was here at all, when Krier's men barged in. Don't know where they took him."

"He's ex-military," Laguna shrugged. "He's used to commanding people and situations."

"He seemed particularly eager to get Shipey away from us." Squall was trying hard to impress upon Laguna how strange and ominous he found the situation to no avail.

"I'll ask Krier about it tomorrow. Anyway..." he continued, doggedly changing the subject. "I wanted to talk to you about...about why I left."

_Crap._

"There's nothing you need to explain."

"I don't think you understand what really happened."

"No. I understand." Squall swallowed back something...he wasn't sure whether it was anger or tears. Neither was familiar anymore. "Ellone sent me into the past...into _your_ past. I know everything that happened."

"I didn't --"

"Want me. I know. It's okay."

"No, it isn't." Laguna frowned.

"You found Ellone," Squall shrugged, pushing harder on the old wound. "I was there with her. But you never asked. Never bothered."

Laguna was shaking his head. "You think you know everything, don't you?"

Squall didn't say anything.

"I love you, Squall, despite what you think. You're my _son_."

"You're not my father. You never have been." It was all Squall could say.

"Better late than never."

"You really think so?" Squall stood up, ready to leave. He didn't want to care about Laguna. He didn't want to feel like he needed a father. He'd done just fine without one for years. Laguna meant nothing to him; he refused to let the horrified and hurt expression on his father's face penetrate the icy shell around his heart.

"I don't know." Laguna looked away.

Feeling the barb despite himself, Squall walked away. He didn't want to hear anymore. Laguna could explain what had happened all he wanted, but it wouldn't _change_ anything. Nothing could give him back the man he had once needed but now no longer had room for. The sound of the door slamming behind him was oddly satisfying, and he walked away without feeling regret.


	3. Digging Up the Past

Suggested Soundtrack: "Absinthe Dreams" by Way Out West

Chapter 2: Digging Up the Past

Rinoa was dreaming. Her eyelids fluttered and she groaned but couldn't tear herself away from the images flashing across her mind. She was standing outside of herself looking back but couldn't recognize the person she was seeing. Her face kept bleeding away, smearing into a painter's pallet of colors that blended into strange shades of blue, black, and brown. And then, without any warning, the colors sucked away into a jagged fissure, and Rinoa's face was replaced by an empty, gaping chasm.

Her heart fluttered painfully. She wanted to see herself, _needed_ to see herself.

She rolled her head to the side, but still the dream pursued her.

Her vision spiraled outward, pulling her away from what was happening. Further away now, she could see her body, hazy like raindrops on water. Nothing about her form was clear. It was all muddled, shifting and changing. Next to the mottled chimera stood Squall, fixed and dark in his leather jacket with his arms extended around her growing girth. She..._it_...was consuming him, sucking him in until he was just a shadowy blush across her distorted breast.

Then, with a shocking flash of pain, Rinoa tore away from the dream and came awake in bed.

Her heart was racing, and for long moments she breathed deeply and let the images fade away into the comfortable darkness surrounding her.

Angelo shifted her weight and moved further across the bed toward Squall who was still resting peacefully, his back to her and his breath coming in regular deep gasps. Squall slept like the dead. Angelo was coming to prefer him as a sleeping partner to the increasingly jittery and restless Rinoa.

"Traitor," Rinoa grumbled and turned her back on the dog. She closed her eyes tightly and willed her faceless dream image to stay buried. Despite her best efforts, errant bits and pieces kept flashing across her eyelids, and when she simply couldn't take seeing them anymore, she sighed and opened her eyes.

Everything was reassuringly steady and calm. Their mini-fridge was running. Birds outside were already chirping. The window above the bed hummed with a strange liminal glow from a sun still somewhere on the other side of the world. She looked around at the shadows in their room, considering each fully, before she finally swung her legs out of bed and jogged to the bathroom.

The floor was cold against her feet and gooseflesh rose all across her body, making her scalp prickle uncomfortably.

As she hurried to do her business and get back in bed, she caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror: a void of features, a stretching and distorting of color. She gasped -- had to stop herself from screaming -- and leapt back against the bathroom wall. With a blink, the reflection was her own again, and she wondered if she'd really seen anything strange at all. The hour was dreadfully early, and she was still tired. She leaned toward the mirror and took a long, hard look: dark hair rumpled from sleep, round face, even rounder dark eyes. The same face she always saw staring back at her, and one she was a little too fond of to be considered modest. And yet...it still seemed foreign in some inexplicable way.

When Rinoa slid back into bed, relishing the warmth of the covers around her body, she pushed Angelo out of the way and scooted close to Squall.

"Squall," she whispered close to his head. Angelo gave her a dirty look and jumped down from the bed, making the entire structure shudder. Squall didn't even twitch.

"Squall," she repeated, more urgently this time, and shook him by the shoulder.

"Squall." Rinoa shook harder. "I need to talk to you." Groping under the covers with her toes, she touched her feet still chilled from the bathroom tiles to the back of Squall's thigh.

"Gah!" He jumped away, but Rinoa caught him in her arms. "What?"

Rinoa cuddled her face against his neck. She didn't have anything she actually wanted to say now that he was awake. The dream was too silly to try to describe, and the incident in the bathroom he would shrug off as her overactive imagination. Squall was doggedly realistic like that, even though he'd seen things in his life that defied rational explanation. She knew there was nothing to be afraid of in what she had dreamed, but it had touched her psyche and she couldn't shake it. Squall helped ease the alienation away and reassure her that she was still herself.

"I love you," she told him.

"Mmm." He was drifting away again.

Rinoa narrowed her eyes, irritated that he was abandoning her at such a critical moment, and aimed for a spot she knew was still sore.

"You should have given Laguna a chance."

"Laguna?" He came awake with renewed zest. "Why the hell should I listen to anything he says?"

"Because he's your father."

"He's _not_ my father."

"Maybe there's a good reason he..." Rinoa hesitated to say _abandoned_. "And, you know, if he hadn't, we wouldn't be together. You wouldn't be at Garden. The whole world might have ended."

"What? Like, it's fate that Laguna sent me off to an orphanage?"

"Maybe."

"I don't believe in fate," he snorted. "There are a million different things that could have happened. It's just chance that it happened the way it did. And bad luck that idiot happens to be my..._father_."

"He's been running Esthar for years now," Rinoa pointed out. "He can't be as dumb as you think."

"A monkey could run Esthar," he replied. Then, with a chuckle at his own wit added, "And does."

Squall rolled over, cheered by his joke, and gathered Rinoa into his arms. His chest was warm and solid against her cheek and his hands massaged gently across her back. His lips moved slowly across her hairline and down her forehead. Squall was a gentle lover, all affection and loyalty, and so different from all the other men Rinoa had ever known. Strong and soft.

But stubborn as well. Rinoa hated the fact that he couldn't bring himself to accept Laguna. For her part, she loved the man and wished he could be a more regular part of their lives. Laguna was all sunshine and rainbows, pure optimism and creativity. She knew he could have a tremendous positive influence on Squall if only the stubborn ox would let him. Squall's lack of filial identity and loyalty also made Rinoa suspicious. If she were to disappoint him once, would he leave her behind forever, too? She was only now just inside his emotional walls, and they still could be shut in front of her with any mis-step. But there were moments like these, the tender loving ones, when she believed that he had a depth of emotion far beyond any she'd ever known. And maybe that was why Laguna was such a difficult topic, having injured him so deeply.

"What time is it?" he asked, fully awake now.

"Dunno."

"Why are you up?" He sat up a little, looked around the room, then spotted Angelo on the floor and laid back down, apparently satisfied.

Rinoa shrugged. "Just couldn't sleep."

He kissed her. "This thing is bothering you that much?"

He wasn't asking what he thought, but Rinoa nodded anyway.

Squall sighed as if some massive burden had just been laid upon his chest.

"Fine. I'll try to at least be nice to him. But I'm not promising anything."

It was something, she supposed. But it didn't make her feel any better. As Squall pulled her face toward his, entertaining ideas of his own on how they should spend their morning hours, she reflected that something was seriously out of alignment in her life. Rinoa just wasn't sure what.

0 0 0

Laguna looked around the Balamb Malboro Club conference room. It wasn't quite the subterranean bat cave that he'd had in mind, but it would do. Leaning back, he melted into his sweet smelling leather captain's chair and pretended to tap a complex code into the number pad on the arm (he still wasn't sure what the number pad was for, but was positive that it was something spectacular). The lavish spread sat out on the table before him, a full complimentary buffet of snacks and goodies, was Krier's personal contribution to the event. Not that the man was present to enjoy it.

As Laguna ate a deviled egg, he looked across the room at his two body guards who were positioned for the moment by the door. His political advisor, Tico, was pacing. Tico was punctual to a fault, the sort of person who arrived half an hour early for everything "just in case," and Krier's tardiness was driving him up the wall. Privately, it concerned Laguna as well. Krier had military leaking out his pores and wasn't some private who'd just put in his years of service. He'd constructed his entire life in the army. Laguna's own lack of attention to order and detail was his major failing as a soldier -- indeed, he too had been late to the meeting.

Tico sat down with an irritated grunt, his blunt fingers drumming out a rhythm against the table top. He went through phases of anxiety before big meetings but had an incredible game face. Once things began rolling, Tico transformed into a razor sharp politician. He was Laguna's secret weapon.

"He's here," one of the bodyguards said from the door. Both of them moved to cover Laguna as Krier walked in, the doors seeming to blow open before him.

"President Loire," he nodded. He was impeccably dressed in a navy blue suit and red tie. His cuff links glimmered as he extended his hand to be shook. Laguna felt shabby but smug in his own khaki pants and bright blue polo.

"Didn't think you were going to make it," Laguna replied, not taking the proffered hand.

Krier took it back, unfazed.

"You know what it's like. Everything's an emergency." He pulled out a seat across the table and picked out an assortment of items from the table. "Sorry about all the food. I knew I wasn't going to have time for lunch today...thought it might make for a more relaxing atmosphere." Laguna couldn't imagine Jack Krier relaxing. Besides, he was irritated and wasn't bothering to hide it.

"I can't imagine what it must be like to be so important," he said.

Krier looked for a moment like he was going to retort and then decided against it. Instead, he leaned back and put on a professional veneer.

"I have a proposition for you."

"And I would appreciate some answers from you," Laguna replied coolly.

Krier tented his fingers and gazed over them with a guarded look. "About what?"

"Robert Shipey."

"Oh. That." He chucked and shoved a cracker topped with spinach dip into his mouth. "What is it that you want to know?"

"Who is he?"

"Robert Shipey is...or, _was_ a professor at Deling University," Krier began. "You must know that already. He is an expert in Ancient Centra. Up until a few days ago, he was employed by the Galbadian government as part of research committee."

"And why did you hire him?" Laguna asked.

"I didn't. I inherited him. One of the first things I did upon becoming president was to order a review of the budget, find out where all the money was going. Shipey's committee was expendable. I cut off their funding."

"So you fired him."

"In a nutshell. Apparently the wound is still fresh."

Laguna chewed over this for a moment. The story was the same one Squall had been given the night before. And it made sense. Academics tended to be more passionate about their jobs than most.

"So, where is he now?"

"On a boat, on his way to our C-District Prison." Krier forked a peach slice and ate it. "Is that all?"

Laguna, mostly satisfied, wasn't sure whether it was important and but wanted to know, "What was his committee researching?

"Something about translating ancient Centran texts. In fact, I think some of them are in Esthar. Mr. Shipey has spent considerable time in your lovely country."

Laguna had a flash of realization. "Right. The Esthar Heritage Archives has a whole bunch of old Centran tablets."

"Didn't seem important to me."

The tablets hadn't been seen as important to anyone. Laguna had signed off on Galbadian student visas without much thought and then promptly forget them. How bizarre, he thought, that one of the men he'd let into his country was now on his way to prison for assault. Every day, the world was just a little bit smaller. Once he was back in Esthar, Laguna could check the validity of Krier's story anyway. Maybe Squall was worried about nothing. Or, Laguna thought with more acid than he realized he felt, maybe Squall manufactured the mystery to avoid talking about anything serious.

"So then...what's this proposition of yours?"

"Yes." Krier leaned forward and put on his business face. "Are you familiar with the phenomenon surrounding the Trabian Crater?"

The area around the Trabian Crater, a mysterious gash in the landscape just outside Trabia Garden, was no-fly zone. All of the instruments in aircraft and in Gardens went wild over the crater, making navigation impossible. It was dangerous and, as yet, unexplained. Laguna had never been there personally, but it was close enough to home that he was familiar with it.

"I think this phenomenon is something we need to study. Both our countries. If something like this were to pop up somewhere else, in some more central location, it could jeopardize both Esthar and Galbadian military operations. It's in our best interest, I think, to find out what's causing it and how to deal with it."

"What exactly is it that you're proposing?" Laguna asked.

"It's no secret...Esthar is the most technologically advanced country in the world." Krier was laying it on thick. Laguna steeled himself for something unpleasant. "I would love to figure this thing out without your help...and, be sure, so would all of Galbadia. Imagine the worth to a country like ours -- we're a ground force, you know that. Esthar is all about the air. The stars. But we need your expertise." Krier leaned back in his chair, evidently unhappy at having to reveal this fact.

"And so...?" Laguna prompted.

"We send a joint team to the crater to find out what is causing the instrument malfunctions. Half the men mine, half the men yours. Funding all fifty-fifty. And we reap equal benefits."

Laguna glanced at Tico, who gave him a blank look. This wasn't quite what either of them had anticipated. Such a mundane thing: a science expedition. One, Laguna realized, Esthar could probably execute without the help of the Galbadians.

"Of course," Krier continued, noting Laguna's hesitation. "I hope this effort may draw our nations together. You're a Galbadian after all. And if the Second Sorceress War proved anything, it's that we have to be united. There are forces out there greater than both of us, Laguna. We're going to need the strength of both our countries if we're going to survive."

Laguna shook his head. "I don't see why we should work with you on this, to be honest."

"Think of it as a first step. Something simple to get things going."

"This is something we easily could accomplish on our own."

"There's the catch, you see." Krier smiled. "We already know a great deal about the crater. We think we've located source of the...erm...phenomenon. It will just take longer to access it without your help. And, it would be difficult right on your border and right next to a Garden much friendlier to you than to me. This is a gesture of good faith. We're willing to share. Think of how something like this may be useful to Esthar in the future."

Galbadia had missiles and those big, tacky jet suits, but little else that flied if Garden was discounted. The giant wall encircling all of Esthar had protected them for decades against ground assault, but it did nothing to keep out airborne enemies. The rest of the world, Laguna knew, wouldn't remain earth-bound forever.

"How large an expedition are you thinking of?" he asked, thinking of the bottom line.

"Initially, a four man team. More if they find something."

"That's too vague. I need a better outline of the manpower this will require."

"Well, that's why we're here in Balamb. I propose that we hire a Garden. If our men discover something, Garden will be there to assist wherever they're needed. It's neutral. It's fair."

It sounded like a solid plan. Squall would be there to be sure nothing went awry. He would look out for what was right and best. Laguna trusted him with that.

"Alright." Laguna nodded. "We will provide two people to join your team. And we will provide half the money to pay for Garden's hire. I will arrange the contract." If Squall was still angry, it wouldn't be a pleasant visit. But Laguna was determined to patch things up with his son, and this was a legitimate excuse to make an appearance.

Krier smiled, the edges of his hard mouth twitching at either end. "This will be a wonderful new beginning for both of our countries, President Loire."

Laguna still wasn't certain of that as he left the Malboro Club with his men a few minutes later. He wasn't at all certain that the people of Esthar would approve of a political alliance, even if it was in their best interest. But if the crater could provide them with some protection against aerial assault...he couldn't pass that possibility by. Especially with technology hemorrhaging out of Esthar at an alarming rate. Balamb Garden already had the Ragnarok at their disposal.

His limo was waiting for him at the curb. Tico sat down across from him, the cool politician now gone and replaced by the man, gritty and warm.

"What if Balamb Garden won't make a contract with us?"

"Then we'll go to Trabia Garden," Laguna shrugged. "They _are_ right next to the crater, after all."

"So why are we bothering with Balamb Garden in the first place?" Tico asked.

Laguna frowned and twisted his wedding ring around his finger. He didn't want to reflect upon that question. Didn't want to think about the possible implications, the obvious possibility that Krier was using Squall to manipulate him into agreeing. Maybe it had worked. Or maybe this really was what was best for Esthar.

"Squall's been on his own for a long time now. He's got another family. He might not need anyone else."

Tico's bald honesty cut straight to Laguna's core. He'd spent most of his life believing in optimism and that all things were possible. Age old enemies could be friends. Esthar could be safely sheltered forever. Love could conquer all.

Then Raine died.

He wasn't there when it happened. Wasn't there when their son was sent off to an orphanage. Now he was here, President and fumbling through the motions. Everything was upside down, turned inside out. And he wasn't sure how to fix it.

0 0 0

Quistis was on her way to the library when she spotted Laguna and his entourage striding through the front gate. Cadets going by were all craning their necks and whispering, walking at a turtle's pace to their next class. Laguna seemed mildly embarrassed by the traffic jam, but waved and nodded anyway as security guards surrounded him.

Smiling to herself, Quistis strode up to him. She liked Laguna a lot. He had such a good heart that it was nearly impossible not to. Spotting her, Laguna pushed between two of his guards.

"Quistis!" he breathed a sigh of relief.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, pushing her reading glasses up on her nose so she could see him clearly.

"Came to see Squall, and the headmaster," he replied. "I've never been here before. I didn't realize it was so...busy."

"Squall?" Quistis winced. They had all driven home together the night before. Squall had a way of throwing water on a fire even when he was in a good mood, and that night he'd been a veritable blizzard. Everyone in the car had bit their lips, avoided eye contact, and prayed the car would move just a little bit faster. Only Rinoa dared to maintain a conversation and prattled on about her time as a revolutionary in Timber. (Quistis hated those stories. Hated the way Rinoa still believed her little Forest Owls group represented a real resistance to the Galbadians.) To top it off, Squall was still angry with her over the spell casting incident -- what was she _supposed _to do, let Krier knock the guy out?

In the car, she'd felt a sudden burst of anger at him. No one else was allowed to be happy when Squall wasn't. It was selfish. Conceited. The feeling hadn't passed. She was still seething over it as she looked up at Laguna -- shadows of a familiar face but a soul of a drastically different shade.

"Don't worry." Laguna reached out and touched her shoulder. "I haven't come to talk about _that_. We want to hire Garden."

"Oh!" She wasn't sure whether she was relieved or disappointed. "I don't know where Squall's at. But I can take you to the Headmaster."

"Cid. Right? Yeah. That'd be great."

"You're lucky I ran into you," Quistis said as they started toward the elevator, a troupe of men in black suits trailing behind them. "You'd have never found Cid on your own. Garden isn't really designed for visitors."

"Wasn't sure that I should call. You know." Laguna shrugged. Squall might have hung up on him every time without ever letting Laguna get a word in.

When they reached the elevator, Laguna turned to his men. "Please wait here for me," he instructed. "I'm in good hands."

Quistis smiled and appreciated the sincere compliment for what it was. The Esthar security guards looked uneasy, and behind them heavily robed Garden faculty were shooing cadets past as the elevator doors slid shut. Quistis swiped her ID and pressed the button for the third floor.

"Can I ask you something?" Laguna asked, putting his hands in his pockets. He was dressed much as he always was: light khaki pants, sandals, a shirt buttoned not quite to the top and not quite to the bottom, and his old army dog tags dangling around his neck. He looked relaxed, easy-going. But his expression was tense and worried.

"What?"

"Squall. Has he always been..."

"A cold, unfeeling bastard?" Quistis provided. "Yeah. Always."

"Even when he was little?"

"I don't really remember..." Quistis admitted. "I don't remember much of him, really. Remember Seifer fighting with him. He cried a lot at the orphanage, I think. But not here."

"I just can't figure out how to get through to him."

"Well, you're asking the wrong person. I'm still not sure that he even considers me a friend, despite everything." Quistis couldn't help letting some of the bitterness and anger she felt over that slip into her voice. At first she'd been angry at Rinoa. Why was she able to so easily attain what Quistis had worked so long to get? Then it had turned toward Squall. Didn't he have an ounce of empathy in his entire body?

Laguna smiled a little and said, "Have plans to come back to Esthar anytime soon? We'd love to have you back at the presidential palace."

Quistis smiled back. At that moment, the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. As they stepped out, the receptionist looked up and smiled.

"Quistis. President Loire. How can I help you?"

"I'd like to speak to the Headmaster about a contract."

"One moment please." She smiled again cordially, then vanished through the double doors.

"You know, he'd be smart to let you back into his life," Quistis announced. "If I ever found one of my parents..." She sighed, not wanting to continue the thought. It was beyond her how Squall could come face to face with a warm, loving parent and reject him. Quistis had long blocked out memories of the family that had adopted her -- who _hadn't_ loved her -- and wished that her own worst memory was Ellone's disappearance from the orphanage.

Perhaps, she reflected, that was what had drawn her to Squall in the first place. He'd been so quiet and reflective in her class that she was certain a deep, torturous past was behind it. She never figured he just had a phobia of emotional attachment.

"He's just afraid, you know." Laguna looked down at her with interest as she spoke. "Squall doesn't do relationships. He's afraid of them."

The receptionist came back into the room and said with a bright smile, "The Headmaster will see you now."

"Well, thanks for escorting me." Laguna touched her arm. "And thanks for the advice. Hopefully I'll see you all again in a few weeks."

Quistis watched him amble into Cid's office and wondered what kind of mission he had for Garden. Whatever it was, it was bound to be interesting and off-kilter. The months she had spent in Esthar had been the most curious of her life. Laguna didn't lack a sense of adventure.

_Probably has to do with that meeting he had with Krier_, she thought.

Cheered by Laguna's visit, Quistis rode back down in the elevator in higher spirits than she'd gone up with. She glanced down at the book clutched in her hand, the one she'd been on her way to the library to return before Laguna had side-tracked her. It was one of Dr. Odine's many publications. This one, called _Para-Magic: Finding God in the Forebrain_, she had on interlibrary loan from Esthar University. Supposedly, the book had been foundational in the junctioning of Guardian Forces.

She leafed through the pages -- all 739 of them. It wasn't exactly light reading. She was a scholar at heart, conceptually gifted but practically handicapped. She knew the SeeD Manual by heart, could talk for hours about historic battles and famous military maneuvers, but wasn't quite as good at applying everything she knew in the field. Her intellectual prowess had allowed her to blaze through her classes faster than any other cadet in the history of Garden. Cid, recognizing her strengths and her faults, had suggested instructorship rather than a field position. She still clung to that role, even though she'd lost her instructor's license two years ago.

At the library she dropped off her book and picked up a new one, a book of essays by the philosopher Nerrida (a completely incomprehensible writer and thinker who Quistis read more for prestige than pleasure). Holding the hefty volume to her chest, she set off to find Rinoa.

She found her, after a long search, in the Quad throwing a ball for Angelo.

"Hey." She smiled and tossed the ball again. "What's up?"

"Just ran into Laguna," Quistis informed her.

"Really? Why's he here?" Rinoa's eyes went wide.

"Discussing some sort of contract with the Headmaster," Quistis shrugged. "I think he said he wanted to talk to Squall, too."

Tit for tat, anyway.

0 0 0

Squall felt railroaded. He sat in a chair in front of Cid and next to Laguna with his arms crossed. He should have suspected something when Rinoa rushed up to him in the training center and told him Cid needed to see him immediately. He'd wondered the entire way up to Cid's office why he'd hadn't been paged, but he wasn't in the habit of ignoring an emergency when it came up. Now he knew what the emergency was: Laguna Loire. Through out their meeting, Squall made a conscious effort to be as unaccommodating as possible.

"What sort of time frame are we thinking of here?" Cid asked.

"Can't quite say at this point," Laguna responded. "Garden doesn't have to stay in Trabia the entire time. I know you have...obligations. Just need you to be around to respond if the team needs help."

"I think we could handle that," Cid said while chewing the end of his pen and flipping through a desktop calendar. "What do you think, Squall?"

Forced to render his opinion, Squall ground out, "I think Krier is up to something."

"Is this about Shipey?" Laguna asked.

"You don't think it's odd that a university professor was at a diplomatic meeting?" Squall asked. "Or that Galbadian security just hauled him off before he could be questioned?"

"He was fired, Squall. Recently. It happens all the time. Plus, Krier's story checks out. We've got records of Shipey visiting Esthar to examine Ancient Centran documents."

"But that doesn't mean anything." He couldn't see why no one else could see that Shipey's occupation wasn't the issue.

"This is a good opportunity for Esthar. I've made the decision." Laguna crossed his arms, mimicking his son's body language. "This crater isn't very far outside the city. If we could find out how it works...all of Esthar could be protected against aerial assault. And it's not a bad idea to try and make friends with Galbadia anyway."

"No one in Esthar wants to be friends with Galbadia."

"Esthar doesn't always know what's best for it."

Their voices were rising. Squall was angrier than was strictly logical. He was searching his mind for some kind of response when Cid cleared his throat.

"I'm going to authorize your contract," he announced. "I'll fax a copy to Krier. Legally, they're two separate contracts, but they'll have the same guts. The fees will be divided fifty-fifty."

"Thank you."

"We will pick up your men here and transport them to Trabia. They'll need to do some basic paperwork, but then they'll be free to use all the Garden facilities."

Squall sat brooding.

"Why am I even here if no one is going to listen to me?" he asked. He hadn't meant to and was surprised when it slipped out.

Laguna gave him a look that pinned him to his chair. "Not listen to _you_?"

He had the dignity to look ashamed.

"You're not always right, Squall," Laguna lectured. It was the first time Squall had seen him genuinely angry, and it was oddly satisfying. "I've tried to make things right with you. But you don't seem to care about anyone."

That wasn't true. Squall thought about Rinoa. He cared for her more than anyone else in the world. He'd easily give up his life for her. And with that thought, he remembered the promise he'd made to her that morning. Groaning inwardly, he looked at his father and took a deep breath, mentally preparing to swallow his pride.

"Alright. Sorry. That was out of line."

"I know Ellone sent you into my past, but that doesn't mean you know everything about it. I wish you'd just let me explain to you..."

"Not interested in explanations," Squall interrupted, unable to help himself.

Laguna gave him a hard and tired look.

"There is a good reason nearly everyone you know is an orphan, Squall," he finally said. "Quistis. Selphie. Zell. They all lost their families. Lots of people did. I was a soldier, and a lot of people in Winhill didn't want someone like me bringing the war to their town. Can you blame them?"

Squall had seen first hand the reception Laguna had gotten in the quaint, Galbadian village of Winhill. Every day he'd gone out and rid the town of a plague of bite bugs and caterchipillars, monsters that the otherwise occupied Galbadian Army would have dealt with. He received room and board for his troubles, but little else. Squall knew what being hated on the basis of profession was like -- people were still wary of SeeDs and Garden was only a tolerated visitor in Fisherman's Horizon.

"I went to Esthar to save Ellone," Laguna continued, undaunted. "And they made me president. By the time I got back to Winhill...you and Raine were both gone. No one told me where. Edea and Cid here took Ellone in, formed the White SeeDs and had the ship built to keep Ellone safe. I had no idea you were there, too."

Squall looked at Cid, who nodded.

"I guess I just assumed you were taken in by someone in Winhill," Laguna shrugged. "It wasn't until years later...when Ellone came back to Esthar, that I found out about you."

"They were difficult times for us all," Cid agreed. "But the future's looking better." He pushed a piece of paper across his desk to Laguna. "Never dreamed Galbadia and Esthar would be working together."

Looking a little sheepish, Laguna scrawled his name across the bottom of the contract. Squall was grateful for the change of topic, relieved that he wouldn't have to respond to everything Laguna had said. It wasn't anything he hadn't already known. Still, he'd never given Laguna the opportunity to say it out loud either. Now he was embarrassed and wanted to leave.

"Have a safe trip back to Esthar," Cid said. "We'll be in touch."

Squall took the opening as Laguna and Cid shook hands and exchanged documentation to escape the office and head for the elevator. He punched the down button savagely. He needed air. He needed Rinoa. But the elevator moved at a painful crawl, and Laguna was at his side again before the doors opened.

"Thanks for listening, Squall," he said, looking straight forward. "That's all I...I guess...just, thanks."

He was standing funny, favoring one leg. Muscle cramp. He was nervous?

"Whatever."

"Right."

They stood silently in the elevator as it dropped back to the first floor. Despite himself, Squall did feel a little more at ease. Part of him wanted to believe that Laguna wanted to be a real father. It was a brilliant fantasy, after all: an orphan separated from his loving father by a grave mistake only to find one another again after so many years. But Squall was too old now to entertain fantasies. Maybe if Laguna had showed up when he was eight, or twelve. But now? It was just too late. He was too far gone.

"Tell Rinoa I said hello."

"I will."

"And..." he paused outside the elevator doors when they opened on the first floor. "You should know, I don't know if I trust Krier either. You should keep an eye on things."

With a small smile and a wave, Laguna walked away, his security detail joining him halfway to the directory. Squall turned to go find Rinoa, juggling mixed feelings he didn't understand.

0 0 0

Quistis had a date. It wasn't something she did often, though not because she didn't want to. Rather, she almost never got asked. She'd been told by those in the know (namely, Rinoa) that it was an intimidation thing. Men were terrified of her. They wanted blonde and tall and boobs, but not brains and chains. If the Trepies were still around, they kept their distance as they always had. She still got a lot of traffic on the Garden network, but didn't have much to show for it.

This particular date wasn't going as well as she'd hoped.

They were walking toward the docks together, admiring the sunset and the seabirds, and Quistis was trying to strike up an intelligent conversation.

"Where is it you said you're from again?"

"Right here. Balamb."

"Oh. So...you probably know Zell."

"Uh. Not really. I'm older than Zell."

Her date, Nathan Northfield ("Nate" he insisted) was a twenty five year old instructor. Quistis had vaguely known him for years but had never spoken to him until they found themselves together in the lunch line. It was so adolescent, to be asked out over a half pint of two percent milk and a plastic tray. But he was smart, and he was handsome.

The only problem seemed to be that he was also boring.

"Do you fish?" she asked, looking down into the darkening water.

"Do you?"

"Not really. I'm not very good at it," she admitted.

"Me too."

Quistis considered telling him the story of her first fishing trip at the orphanage. The first thing she reeled in was a small, green, humpbacked thing that had swallowed the hook and had to be put out of its misery by Seifer, who enjoyed that part of fishing the most. It had sat in the dirt beside her most of the day with its crushed head, her only catch despite the fact that even Selphie caught three. Eventually she'd given up and with two sticks and a rock began a careful dissection of the hump -- much more interesting than fishing anyway.

It was a pleasant memory of her childhood. Something she had only rare glimpses of. And she didn't feel like sharing it yet with Nate Northfield.

"Why'd you join Garden?" she finally asked, determined to ferret something interesting out of the man rather than offer up more pieces of herself.

"Not much else to do in Balamb," he shrugged.

Quistis sighed and flopped down on a bench overlooking the harbor. A gull flew down and landed at her feet, then looked up expectantly.

"I don't have anything. Go away." She kicked at it and the bird flew off with an angry squawk.

The evening had started out well. She couldn't quite pinpoint when it had gone sour. They'd gone out for ethnic Trabian where Quistis had consumed a meal so rich and filling that it stretched the limitations of her control top hosiery. Maybe she'd been too distracted by the thick breads, gravies, and the bewildering assortment of meats made available in every conceivable way to notice Nate shelling out gil but little else. She was still full, and it was making her tired. Sitting beside him with the sound of the sea under her feet, all she wanted to do was go home and sleep.

"Why did you join Garden?" he asked.

"Hm? Oh. I don't know. Guess my family sent me there. It worked out alright." Better than alright. She loved Garden. "I never thought about being anything other than SeeD."

Nate reached across her lap and took her right hand in his. His palm was cool, dry, and hard.

Quistis adverted her eyes. He was a nice guy. He'd bought her dinner. He'd tried his best. She didn't want to be rude. But holding hands with him wasn't on her list of things to do..._ever_.

Turning her head away from him, she noticed a fishing boat coming into the harbor, metallic sails glinting in the evening light. From the look of it, it was a ship out of Dollet. Men scrambled about the decks, folding the sails in as the hull glided through the water. Over the open water she could hear their voices as the men called to one another and moved with considerable grace across the rigging.

"I don't know what would drive anyone to do that." Nate interrupted the scene.

"A wandering spirit? Love of the sea?" she suggested.

"Have you ever actually _met _a sailor? More like no appreciable job skills or an arrest warrant."

"That's just a stereotype."

"Stereotypes become stereotypes because they're true."

"So then, what...you're a stodgy geek who never likes to have fun, Instructor Northfield?" She should have felt bad for saying it, but she didn't.

Nate didn't say anything, apparently recognizing her statement as the insult that it was. But he didn't let go of her hand either. They sat in silence together as the ship stopped at the dock, waves splashing hard against it's stocky hull, and the sailors disembarked off the starboard side. They were an odd assortment, running the whole gamut between young and old, but all men. And they were awkward on the dock, stumbling past on their sea legs in a cacophony of laughs, grunts, and curse words. One held back from the others, clearly not part of the group.

Compulsively, Quistis gripped Nate's hand as the sailor walked by and looked down at her. His blond hair peeked from under the knit hat he had pulled down over his ears and curled around his collar where it had grown long and unruly. A scruffy, grizzled beard gave his jaw a seriousness and weight it had never had before. But his eyes were the same hot, hostile green. And the scar across the bridge of his nose was still an angry red.

He glanced down at their clasped hands, then, as if he'd seen nothing at all, continued past following the rest of the sailors.

"Was that...?" Nate was dumbstruck.

Quistis jerked her hand away, suddenly ashamed, and pouted. She'd have to give Nate the point about sailors, she decided.


	4. Shadow of Doubt

A/N: Just want to answer a few questions. Seifer is a **huge** part of this story, but it's going to take a few more chapters before you'll see exactly why. Hang in their Seiftis fans and I _promise_ I won't disappoint. It's better if it makes sense - enjoy the story for now. Also, this re-write follows the same basic plot line as the original, but a lot of the details have changed (the prologue, in fact, is completely new). Hopefully, it's better than it was.

Chapter 3: Shadow of Doubt

Jack Krier sat at his desk adding his signature to a large stack of documents. He didn't bother to read through them. Usually he was very specific about paperwork -- he liked to know everything about everything -- but he hadn't anticipated the more mundane duties he would have as president. Presently he was working through a pile of congratulatory letters being sent to students who'd won a government scholarship to study at Galbadia Garden (the "Presidential" scholarship). His hand was just beginning to cramp when the phone rang. His assistant was on the other line.

"Nancy. We've got to get that damn stamp," he grumbled. "Have you called the stamp people?"

"Yes, Sir. It should be here any day now."

Krier had intended to have a momentous first hundred days in office. The beginning of an administration neither Galbadia or the world would ever forget. He hadn't figured a dark transition period would absorb most of his time, waiting for his staff to organize themselves, waiting on trivial things like personalized letterhead and signature stamps. Like he gave a shit whether letters were topped with a colorful, embossed logo bearing his name. Security, defense and war: those were the things he wanted to be attending to. Not little Jimmy's letter about his new puppy named Jack. Nancy had thought that particular letter was "cute."

"Sir." She interrupted his thoughts. "The two from Deling City University are here."

"Send them in."

He pushed aside the scholarship letters. They were going to need some desk space for this.

A moment later, Nancy ushered a man and a woman into his office. The man, Duran Kitsuma, was compact and square with a mane of bushy, brown hair. From underneath it he gave Krier an appraising glance. The woman, Crecentia Fellows, was precisely what one would expect of a young woman planning a career in the military: tall and lean, dark brown hair cropped close to her face, an even chestnut complexion, and a no-nonsense demeanor.

Krier extended his hand. "It's nice to meet you."

They both shook it in turn.

"Thank you, Nancy," he dismissed his secretary.

The show was purely for her benefit, and once she closed the door behind her, Krier dropped the façade. He'd already met Duran and Crecentia and knew them well, otherwise he wouldn't have picked them to comprise his team.

"I've taken the liberty of getting you both some air reconnaissance." He pulled a manila folder out of his right hand desk drawer. "Courtesy of our good friends at Galbadia Garden." He slid a few glossy satellite photographs across the desk to them. Ironically, Galbadia Garden had gotten the photographs through a privately owned satellite imagery firm in Esthar. Almost everything they knew about the crater had been gleaned from sources in Esthar.

Crecentia narrowed her eyes as she looked down at the jagged form of the crater.

"These are where we're going to begin excavating," Krier explained, pointing to a few red circles on the photo. "This ledge here doesn't fit the structure of the rest of the crater. There may be something there. And this seems to be the overall focal point of the crater. Whatever created it may be there."

Crecentia and Duran both nodded.

"I'll provide you with coordinates once you're in Balamb."

Reaching again into the manila folder, Krier slid a thick packet across to each of them and tucked the satellite photos away.

"This," he began with relish, "is information on everyone you'll be working with. Everything we could find out about them. The two Esthar researchers are on top. One of them you haven't met yet. And underneath are profiles of the Balamb Garden SeeDs you'll be most likely to run into, arranged according to rank. Pay close attention to Squall Leonhart. He might be trouble."

"Aren't these the SeeD's who defeated the sorceress?" Duran asked as he flipped through their pictures.

"They are. That's why we're contracting with Balamb. Which brings me to the last bit of intelligence I have for you."

The final piece of paper he slid across the desk had a large, red "Classified" stamp across the top. Below the stamp, paper clipped onto a sheet of plain type was a photograph of a dark-haired woman sitting on a bench, petting a dog. Duran and Crecentia both leaned forward to get a better look.

"This will not leave my office," Krier advised. "Study it carefully. It took us quite a while to gather this intelligence. Caraway has been less than helpful, and Garden is particularly tight lipped about it. But now we're sure. She's the last."

0 0 0

Irvine had been drinking.

Outside the Balamb City Hotel, he leaned against the wall and let the cool ocean air soothe his heated skin. His scalp contracted against the sudden chill of the wall when he touched his head against it, closing his eyes. In the dark, he could feel the low hum of alcohol in his veins and muscles -- simultaneously exciting and relaxing him.

Irvine wasn't usually a heavy drinker. He couldn't quite hold his liquor, and whenever he really set out to get drunk he always ended up with his head in the nearest trash can, power vomiting across the Saturday morning post. It wasn't a sight that inspired the ladies, so he tried to avoid it.

Tonight he'd gone to the Balamb Hotel and sat in their restaurant. On Saturdays, the grill had a special on spicy chicken wings, and he'd left Garden intending to gorge himself on greasy food and then crash at Zell's for a long night of fat induced slumber. But then a platinum blonde had sat down next to him, and the evening had gone off on its own course.

He felt a little sick but was too out of body to tell whether it was serious. It wasn't the sudden urgency of rising gorge, just a mild unpleasantness. And he was getting tired. And he was sweating.

"Hey. You okay?"

He opened his eyes. The blond stood radiant in the moonlight.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? I could drive you home or something."

"Baby, you can drive me wherever you like," he grinned, flashing her a set of newly whitened teeth.

She smiled and walked up to him. Her fingers brushed the back of his hand then worked their way up the sleeve of his coat. Her body molded suddenly to his side.

Sighing, Irvine turned and pressed his mouth to hers. Her lips were salty and her breath was fruity from the drink she'd been nursing. It was pleasant and refreshing. Irvine kissed her again.

She leaned against him and dropped her head on his shoulder, one arm sneaking into the hollow curve between his back and the wall. This was Irvine's idea of heaven: a beautiful woman with her arms around him. He didn't wrap his around her; he didn't want to encourage _too_ much intimacy after all. The last thing he wanted was for her to fall in love with him. It was an ugly business, breaking women's hearts. He preferred to avoid it whenever he could. But such was the life of a lady's man.

"Listen..." He went to say her name, only to realize he didn't know it, or didn't remember it. "You want to head out to Garden with me?"

"What rank SeeD are you again?" she asked.

"Oh, you know, I'm at the top."

"Ever kill anyone?" Her lips curved into a smile somewhere between playful and serious. Everyone had a dark side. At least hers was obvious.

"Once or twice." He patted her butt.

"On missions?"

"Sure."

"Ever assassinate anybody?"

"Once..." Unsuccessfully. Eager to get off the subject of mercenary work, he took her hand and pulled her toward the street. The sooner they got to Garden, the better. He didn't have too long before he threw up or passed out, and he was hoping to still have the energy for a good night.

The couple walked down Main Street hand in hand. When they passed by Zell's house, the kitchen was softly lit behind a pair of gauzy white curtains and the smell of baking cookies was flowing out into the street. Zell was spending the last night before Garden set off for Trabia with his mother. Cry Baby Zell had really found the perfect home. Irvine almost thought he'd see the small, hyperactive child plastered to the window on the oven door if he looked.

Irvine would have liked a similar adoption experience. He'd been sent alone to Galbadia Garden, split from the rest of the group. He'd been lonely at first. And to compensate for having no one, he'd developed a habit of throwing himself into everything he did. Irvine did nothing in moderation. Guns, woman, and isolation had long been the three main features of his life.

"Hold on." The blonde pulled back on his hand. "You're just going to walk out there?" She motioned to the arched city doors.

"Well...yeah." Irvine was too drunk to drive. And the garage wouldn't be open this late at night anyway.

"But, aren't there monsters? Like...bite bugs and t-rexaurs?"

Irvine looked at her like she was stupid. "Yeah."

She frowned.

"I'll take care of them. Don't worry about it."

"The whole SeeD thing was cute in the bar. But you can drop it now."

Irvine paused and turned around. "What do you mean?"

"You've already got me. I'm _going_ to sleep with you. So you can drop the whole routine. Let's just go get a room at the hotel."

"...What?" In his drunken state, Irvine wasn't quite sure that he was hearing her correctly.

"I'm not going to go wander around out there with you and put my life in danger just so you can pretend you're some great hero," she snorted.

Irvine pushed his hat back on his head a little bit and looked up at the stars, trying his best to focus and figure out exactly what he should say.

"So..." he drawled out long and slow. "You want to go back to the hotel?"

"Yeah." The stern look on her face softened as she realized she was about to get her way. "You know. Why walk all the way to Garden anyway when there's a bed right here?"

Irvine looked down at her and focused hard on her face, picking out all the flaws that hadn't mattered so much before. Her hair was unnaturally thin from bleach and moved like wisps of cigarette smoke in the breeze. Her eyes were too close together. Her nose was small and turned up on the end. She was too tall, not all that delicate.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his SeeD ID card.

"Do you suppose we'll still get the discount?" he asked, flipping the card between his fingers.

"Discount..." Her eyebrows bunched into a puzzled jumble, then smoothed back into a carefully sculpted arc when she noticed the Balamb Garden insignia flashing in the moonlight. "Oh."

They parted without anymore words, and Irvine started the long walk back to Garden alone.

As he walked, he started to feel more sick. Somewhere along the first bend in the road, he stopped to throw up. He wasn't sure how long he sat on the ground, his head spinning and a sour taste in his mouth before he got up and continued.

He hadn't wanted to ask why the woman had refused to believe he was a SeeD. Balamb was full of them. But Garden had some pretty strict rules about things like promiscuity and public intoxication, all of which Irvine was blatantly breaking. It was rare to find a card carrying member of Balamb's elite mercenary force publicly picking up strange women in bars. Which wasn't to say SeeDs and cadets didn't sleep around or have fun, it was just an underground affair.

For the moment, Irvine decided not to think about it. He was having difficulty thinking, and the girl was wasting valuable brain power that he needed to navigate his way home.

By the time he got to Garden, he imagined he was looking pretty rough. He'd had to stop to throw up once more, and had fallen down into the ditch beside the road when a car whizzed by and almost ran him over. He'd rolled there in the weeds for a few minutes cursing the driver and his own poor luck. Then a glacial eye had floated by, much more eerie in the dark than the weird hooded animal ever was in sober sunlight. Irvine got off a few shots at it, and may have even hit it before it stung him on the arm and ran away.

Somehow he managed to avoid Garden faculty all the way to his dorm room. He slid his ID through the pad by the door and waited.

Nothing happened. So he did it again. Still, nothing happened.

"Damn it!" He slammed a hand into the wall. "Open up!"

A door down from his slid open and Selphie poked her head out. "Irvy?"

_Great. Perfect._

Selphie was in a pair of white flannel pajamas covered in pink rabbits. They were the kind people on TV wore, or the sort you only saw in catalogs. Matching pants and button up top, a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers on her feet.

"What's wrong?"

"Stupid door hates me or something," he grumbled. He slid his ID through one more time to show her. It didn't even read it and reject him. It just refused to do anything at all. Selphie smiled and took the card from him.

"You're doing it wrong," she said softly and slid it through on her own with the strip facing the other direction. A green light blinked on and his door hissed open.

"Uh...thanks."

"Are you alright? You don't look so good."

"Fine." He looked down at himself and brushed a stray twig off the front of his coat. "Not really feeling so hot, I guess."

"I thought you were staying at Zell's tonight," she said, placing a hand in the middle of his back and guiding him into the room. "Is that why you're back? You're sick?"

Irvine shrugged and Selphie sat him down on the edge of his bed. She took off his boots and his trench coat, began unzipping his vest. He grabbed her wrist and was beginning to protest -- of all the times, why would she choose when he was drunk and sick? -- but she pulled away and wetted a washcloth in the sink. The cool material felt blissful against his heated skin when she pressed it to his face. Still, he didn't recognize her actions as care taking, especially after she took off his pants, until she tucked him into bed.

"Goodnight, Irvy."

He frowned up at her.

"You'll feel better tomorrow," she reassured him. Then she set a glass of water on his nightstand and left.

Alone in the dark, Irvine felt a painful jab of guilt that was much more unpleasant than the uneasy rumbling of his stomach or the pounding in his head. They weren't quite a couple, though not because he didn't want to be. It was different with Selphie. It wasn't casual. So he flirted and gave her all his affection, but anything more was a little frightening. They were...something. He didn't know what. She'd never indicated what she thought. But he knew she deserved better. Hell, he firmly _believed _she deserved better. Someone who'd be faithful without having to be asked.

But Selphie had never asked anything of him.

He wished she would.

0 0 0

Squall was happy to get away from the cafeteria and into the quiet sanctity of his office. The night before had evidently been a rough one for most of his friends, with the notable exception of Zell who arrived at breakfast with a plate full of still steaming cookies and a brand new T-Board.

Irvine was visibly hung over and sat clutching a cup of coffee. He stared down into it without looking up, even while Selphie chatted away to him from across the table. Blithely naive, she told everyone that he was sick...had come down with something the night before.

Quistis was cranky, even for Quistis. Her date with...what was his name? Squall couldn't remember. Some instructor. It hadn't gone well. Something about him being boring. Something about wanting to rip his eyes out. She speared bits of egg onto her fork and then whipped it around as she spoke, splattering Squall's pancakes. He hated eggs. But no matter how much he grumbled and brushed the bits off, she didn't seem to get the hint. And Rinoa only made things worse, feeding Quistis' anger with statements like, "What a jerk!" and "We should just become nuns."

The crowning moment of the evening had apparently been the arrival of Garden's own prodigal son, Seifer Almasy.

"Did you talk to him?" Rinoa asked with a gasp.

"Why would I talk to him?"

"You know. Find out what he's been doing. Why he's in Balamb."

"Well, it's obvious. He's working. He's a sailor now."

"Did he see you, too?"

"He looked right at me."

"And he didn't say anything?"

She shrugged. "Just looked at me and kept walking. Like he didn't even know me."

Squall thought now, reflecting upon the morning, that the entire conversation might have been more interesting if Seifer had said something. A good battle was just the kind of thing his life was missing. He preferred blood to ink. At the moment, looking down at the paperwork spread across his desk, he felt a particularly sharp pang of nostalgia for the good old days when all he had to concern himself with was winning the next fight Seifer picked with him and looking properly moody in class.

The two crater teams were arriving today, and Squall's job was to help them leap the plethora of bureaucratic hurdles Garden bylaws were going to put in their way. Each team member had to sign waivers for various contingencies and fill out documents describing their medial history, educational background, residential status, and criminal history. The phrasing of these documents was, naturally, ambiguous and difficult to follow.

"What time are we leaving at?" Rinoa asked from her perch in one of the chairs across Squall's desk. She'd followed him after breakfast up to his office. She was wearing her blue duster, which he was still fond of, so he didn't mind her hanging around.

"Probably not until late this afternoon," he replied while making sure he had each of the team member's packets labeled correctly.

"Oh." She fiddled with the ring hanging from her necklace looking bored.

"Why don't you go to the library?" he asked.

"I've already been there once today."

"How about the Quad?"

"It's not that exciting down there when we're just sitting in Balamb."

"The Training Center?" Squall ventured.

"Yeah. There's a challenge." She was beginning to get moody. He'd been glad when she outgrew the tantrums of her youth, and he wasn't quite as pleased to see them return as the blue duster.

"Something bothering you?" he asked.

"No. Not really." She shrugged. "I'm just really antsy today. I don't know. I feel like...like I can't find anything to do that's _satisfying_."

Squall had a comment about satisfying her on the tip of his tongue but recognized this probably wasn't the best opportunity to use it. Regretting that he had to let the moment of wit slide, and that she was taking up valuable time, he clasped his hands together and gave her a sharp look across the desk.

"Listen," he began, "I've got a lot to do preparing for--"

The phone on his desk rang, interrupting him mid-sentence. Holding up a finger to Rinoa, he answered it.

"Sir, the two teams have arrived. They're waiting."

"Okay. Send them in." He waved a hand through the air as if to show Rinoa he had no choice in the matter. "I've got a meeting. But I'll meet you for dinner, alright?"

Rinoa didn't look pleased, but stood up to leave when the door to Squall's office swung open and his secretary ushered four people inside. The first two were resplendent in traditional Estharan fashion. Their long white robes were adorned with jagged, pastel lines, and their gigantic bell sleeves completely hid their hands. Evidently, this was considered a formal occasion as both also wore large, consuming hats that covered much of their face.

The Galbadians, on the other hand, were dressed casually, though Squall noted their pants were pleated and their shirts had clean, crisp lines.

Rinoa paused on her way out and said hello to them. The two Estharans brushed past without paying her much regard, but the Galbadians lingered. Distantly, Squall wondered if they remembered her from the resistance in Timber, or even if they'd seen the spectacle that was Edea's parade through Deling City. Rinoa didn't exactly have a low profile in Galbadia between her famous mother, sinfully rich father, and checkered political past.

He was relieved when she left and closed the door behind her, leaving him alone to conduct business without thoughts of General Caraway, sorceresses, or botched assassinations getting in the way.

"Good afternoon." He had on his best pleasant face. "I'm Squall Leonhart."

The four introduced themselves in turn. The Galbadians were Duran Kitsuma and Crecentia Fellows. The Estharans, who removed their hats as they introduced themselves, proved to be two young men named Nik Vallen and Reiss Tehmuran. Squall forgot their names almost immediately. He was so bad with names. Though, with any luck, he wouldn't have to remember them. He planned to never see them again following this preliminary meeting.

"I've got some forms for you to fill out. Once you're done with them, I'll take you on a tour of our facilities. You'll be living in our dorms for the time that you're with us. You'll share, two to a room. Our single rooms are in high demand here, and they are already taken."

From one of his desk drawers, he pulled out ID cards that had been made up for them.

"These are your passes to everything in Garden. You can purchase meals in the cafeteria with them. You use them as keys to enter your room. And you use them in security panels to access facilities. You'll be able to get into any of our labs with these. If you'd like to get started," he pushed a bundle of pens toward them, "we can go over the rest of the details later."

He sat quite contently as his desk, played a riveting game of free cell, and watched the four stumble through the documents, each furrowing their brow and nibbling the end of their pen. One of the men from Esthar in particular had a look of concern and hesitation on his face. Squall guessed he'd probably gotten to the waivers which absolved Garden of any responsibility for a whole host of medical ailments field work in the crater could produce -- everything from violent death to irreversible infertility. They were leading people from two very powerful governments into the unknown, and Garden had an unusually large ass to cover.

Despite the roadblocks, they finished with time to spare. Squall took them on a whirlwind tour of all the public areas and the restricted lab facilities they would have access to. By the time they arrived at their dorm rooms Squall's stomach was rumbling for lunch.

"We'll be departing this evening," he informed them. "We'll arrive in Trabia in a few days."

"When will we be meeting our team?" one of the men from Esthar asked.

"Your team?"

"We were told Garden was assisting in the investigation..." he hesitated. "It's going to take more than the four of us. Especially if we need to dig."

"Dig?" Squall cringed at the thought of asking SeeDs to spend weeks, or even months, digging in the summer sun.

"We can accomplish some preliminary work on our own," the Galbadian man said, giving the Estharan a long look. "We can't dig if we don't know what we're digging for. I think at this stage we would be best left to our own devices."

That was more reasonable.

"I'll notify you when we've reached Trabia," Squall said. He didn't want to commit anyone yet. He didn't even really know what this mission was about. Exploring the phenomenon of the Trabian Crater? It was so vague. So open ended. He hoped they wouldn't be stuck floating around Trabia for months while these scientists poked around and used up resources.

Back in his office, he folded their paperwork into a manila folder and paged Quistis Trepe.

As he waited for her to arrive, genuine curiosity began to percolate in the back of his mind. What _was_ in the crater anyway?

0 0 0

Quistis sipped a cup of tea and crossed her legs. A gentle ocean breeze was whispering through her skirt and the gauzy umbrella over her table was casting a cool shadow. It would have been pleasant if the patio table had been covered in food rather than a bursting file folder that Squall had handed off to her like a dirty diaper earlier that afternoon. This was their last day in Balamb for who knew how long and he'd given her extra work to do, turning her relaxing lunch date with Irvine into an office meeting.

By the time Irvine arrived, looking better than he had that morning, she was worked up into a lather over it.

"Just because I'm smart doesn't mean I _enjoy_ dull, tedious reading," she griped. "Doesn't he know that?"

Irvine wrinkled his nose. "What is all that, anyway?"

"Forms."

"Lucky you."

Quistis sighed and picked up the first one in the pile. It was about one of the Galbadians - Duran. Squall had asked her to look over their papers and simply instructed, "learn what you can." Honestly, she didn't see anything to learn here. What did Squall expect? That one of them might write something incriminating down? This was pointless. She felt like she was being punished. He'd probably somehow figured out she was the one who'd tipped off Rinoa that Laguna was visiting Garden and this was his passive-aggressive payback.

"So," Irvine prompted. "What's it say?"

"Nothing really. Basic stuff." She scanned over the document. "Duran Kitsuma. Grew up in Forcena in Galbadia. Is an engineering graduate student at Deling City University on a military scholarship."

"Forcena. Nice place. Kinda in the boonies though."

"Boonies?"

"You know. Middle of nowhere. Who are the rest of them?"

"Umm...Crecentia Fellows, grew up in Deling City. Also a graduate student in the same program as Duran on the same scholarship." Krier certainly hadn't gone far to recruit his people. "And the two from Esthar...let's see...there's Nik Vallen who's a graduate student in applied physics and Reiss Tehmuran who's apparently just finishing his doctorate in geology."

"Heavy hitters there."

Quistis closed the file and pushed it aside. "I really think the only reason Squall is getting worked up over this mission is because we're doing it for Laguna."

Irvine shrugged. "I don't know. You should have seen the way they handled that guy who punched President Krier. And why'd they let him come in the first place if he'd been fired?"

"I don't see what any of it has to do with these people. Or the crater."

"Squall's got good instincts about this sort of stuff. Maybe you should trust him."

Quistis bit back a comment about how _she_ was the one who taught _him_ how to be a SeeD. It didn't make any difference now anyway. The student had eclipsed the teacher. Quistis was still sore over the loss of her "most likely to succeed" pedestal. Still missed the days when she'd been a child prodigy and admired by all.

"You think they're up to something, too?" she asked.

Irvine gave a non-committal shrug. "Hell, I don't know. Can't imagine why anybody'd want to read old books. But I don't think Galbadia really wants to be friends with Esthar."

A waiter appeared at their table. Irvine ordered a little bit of everything. Quistis restricted herself to a small plate of chicken cacciatore and a Caesar side salad.

"You must be feeling better," Quistis said, changing the subject. "Didn't know if you were going to keep your coffee down this morning."

A shadow of guilt played across Irvine's face. They had felt an unusal bond that morning as the last two left at the breakfast table, united in their mutual irritation over life and, in particular, love. Lunch together had seemed like a good idea at the time.

"What'd you do last night anyway?"

Irvine shook his head. "Nothing. Really."

Quistis arched an eyebrow. "Well, you should know, Selphie won't look the other way forever. I don't know if she even realizes yet that you sleep around. And if you want to really be with her someday, you should really think about taming things down a little. Not to mention you could totally catch something someday."

"God. I know. Don't lecture me," he grunted.

"Just saying."

"Not sure you're in a position to be shelling out advice."

Their lunch was taking an antagonistic turn. Quistis was surprised. Irvine wasn't usually such an easy man to nettle. _Must have hit a sweet spot there_.

"This last guy was too boring," he held up one gloved fingertip. "And the one before that...let's see, he had a cat. Don't know why that was such a problem..."

"It wasn't the cat itself. It was the way he talked to it."

"That's why nobody asks you out, you know. You've got, like, a reputation."

Quistis shrugged and decided to let Irvine's statement roll off her as angry, hung-over rambling. His eyes, half hidden under his hat, were still bloodshot and his hand was shaking as he reached across the table for her tea cup. She snatched it back before he could take a drink.

"I don't want your old afternoon tequila breath in my tea," she said. The little bit of retribution made her feel better, on all counts.

Irvine sighed and pointed to the manila folder. "Back to the point. What are you going to tell Squall?"

"What is there to tell him? They're grad students. Granted the two Galbadians are military to the core, but that's to be expected."

"You're not the least bit suspicious?" Irvine asked. "You're not at all curious where Dr. Shipey is right now?"

"I'm sure he's fine. A few days in jail, a slap on the wrist. Seifer tried to assassinate President Deling and they made him a General. The man's probably already gotten a promotion for showing such martial initiative."

"That's sorta what I thought at the beginning, too," Irvine mused. "But now...I've been thinking about it and, like...it just is kind of weird."

Their food arrived and Quistis pushed the paperwork to the side. Squall and Irvine were just being paranoid, she decided. What were the chances, after all, that in their lifetimes they'd be caught up in not just one, but _two_ plots to take over the world? 

0 0 0

Bob Shipey sat slumped in the darkness against the wall of his cell. His head ached. A thick, rough scab was finally growing over the gash above his right eye. Part of him was still in firm denial. He just _couldn't_ be in prison. Not someone like him. He was a respected professor. He'd presided over numerous academic conferences, was a leader in his field. He had tenure!

Yet here he sat on the cold cement floor. The world around him was dark, quiet, and dank. He wasn't even sure what prison he was in. There weren't any bars like he'd read about in books, just a heavy metal door with a tiny glass window that peered out into a hallway with flickering neon overhead lights. He would have liked to mark each passing day with a thick, chalk tally on the wall, but no one thought to provide him with a writing instrument. So that precluded any composing of prison-time poetry, or one of those reflective autobiographies he'd read.

He was beginning to drift off to sleep when the door opened. Shipey had to shade his eyes to make out the blocky form striding toward him.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Shipey. How are you doing today?"

Lights flared on overhead, illuminating Jack Krier's smiling face.

Shipey stared at him with bleary eyes.

"Good? You shouldn't be, you know, with that stunt you pulled."

Shipey watched as Krier motioned his two security guards out the door and then settled on the edge of his cot. Krier's weight made the bed sag in the middle and the entire thing looked for a moment like it might fold in half. Shuddering, it held.

"What were you hoping to accomplish, Bob? Do you even know who was at that dinner?"

Shipey shook his head. "I don't know what I was doing. _You_ don't know what you're doing. None of us do." His voice was rough and low.

"Yes. Well, that's why I have you. Or..._had _you. Not sure if I can keep you after that show in Balamb."

Shipey wasn't sure what to say. Krier regarded him for a moment, then sighed.

"But you are the leading expert in your field, aren't you? Bit hard to replace, I've got to say. And I tried, too. So I've got a little job for you."

"Another one?"

"I thought you enjoyed this sort of thing. Figured you'd be jumping at it. Making yourself useful again." He tapped some sheets of paper against his knee. "Fresh out of Esthar. You're partly right, the last one's weren't really all that useful. And we do need to know more. Especially now that we've got men out in the field."

Though Shipey was uneasy with Krier's act first, think later logic, he was tempted. Dreadfully tempted.

Krier leaned forward. "It isn't really meddling you know. You're the scholar here. You know things don't just work out on their own, that there isn't some benevolent force in this world that's going to come and save us. Knowledge is all we've got. And action. It is our duty to _act_ on what we _know_."

He dropped the stack of photocopies on the floor in front of Shipey. The blocky script of Ancient Centra was splashed across them, highlighted in shades of black and grey. It always gave Shipey a sense of reaching into the ether, of breathing deep eternity, to read Ancient Centran and hear it's shadowy voice in his head. Despite himself, he ran his fingers across the page, half expecting the familiar Braille of tool marks on stone. When all he felt was smooth paper, he was reminded of his smallness and how out of place he felt as a hand in momentous things like these -- the workings of governments, the world, and the universe. And not knowing right from wrong. Unable to tell the difference. It was wearing on him.

Still, his eyes scanned over the first few lines of writing. Most of the letters he recognized. A few were local variants that he'd have to spent time extrapolating, probably introduced when the tablet was copied by a second scribe. But on the first page was a word he'd become very familiar with, one even Jack Krier knew how to translate. And he knew that it was the reason he was here now, asking him this favor after cutting him out of the project.

Krier wanted the glory. And, Shipey decided, he could have it. He could bring ruin on them all.

Or he'd rise as their savior.

"I'm going to need some things..." Shipey announced.

"Wonderful. Don't let this little set back get you down, Bob," Krier waved a hand, indicating the cell. "I'll have my men check on you. Let them know when you're done and what you've learned." He produced a pen and a notepad, on which Shipey wrote down an essential list of supplies. It took several seconds as he recorded the titles of several books. Armed with his list, Krier left the room with a promise to have everything delivered within the hour. Blessedly, he also left the overhead light on and his pen in Shipey's sweaty palm.

A lifetime of work had led him here, to this moment and to these documents. Two years ago, when the world had titled on it's axis, and he'd realized the ultimate importance of his work he'd been overwhelmed. Then overjoyed. But things had a way of spiraling out of control. That's what the tablets said. And he believed them. It was almost a relief now to be out of the decision making process and work without concerns for what it all might mean.

He spread the photocopies across the concrete and with his pen began placing vertical slashes between the crunched together individual words of Ancient Centran script: _Vascaroon / believes / Hyne / still / lives.  
_


	5. The Crater

A/N: For whatever reason, this chapter was downright** painful **to write. I'm guessing because this is where 'This Final Heaven' begins to really deviate from what once upon a time was 'Dreams of Esdraelon.' Pretty much brand new stuff from here on out, minus a general bit of rehashing. Coming up in chapter 5...Seifer!. :)

Much in the way of inspiration here is owed to James Rollins, Wilbur Smith, Howard Carter, the ancient Chinese mausoleum of the first Qin Emperor (see also: Terracotta Warriors), and the original archaeologist/adventurer -- Indiana Jones.

Chapter 4: The Crater

Balamb Garden took three days traveling at full speed to touch ground in Trabia. Quistis spent much of her free time reading, exercising in the Training Center, and attempting to avoid instructor Nate Northfield, who was operating under the delusion that their date had gone extraordinarily well. It was easier to sprint from a room every time he entered it than to shoot him down as he stared up at her, innocent and wide eyed. But he had a pervasive presence. Everywhere she went, he'd show up.

Presently, she was taking refuge on the bridge, playing Triple Triad with Xu.

"Don't you guys have somewhere else to be?" Squall asked. He had one shoulder pressed up against the window and was staring blankly at the trees outside.

Xu looked over the top of her cards at Quistis, rolled her eyes, and said, "Nope," before putting down a Leviathan card and flipping over Quistis' Ifrit. It was a necessary sacrifice, and Quistis tried not to betray her plan as she looked over the cards.

Balamb Garden had been idly sitting in the middle of Trabia for two weeks now. Battling snow lions had already become mind bogglingly routine, and in Trabia there wasn't much else to do. Even the scientists were producing little of interest, returning every evening smudged, sunburned, and empty-handed. They hadn't run any lab tests, hadn't borrowed any equipment, and certainly didn't seem to be part of any multi-national plot to overthrow the world's sovereign and peaceful governments. In fact, the entire mission was proving to be downright boring.

Quistis saw Squall's reflection scowl.

Rinoa, who was watching Quistis and Xu play, let out a sigh that blew one of their cards off the table. Xu gave her an evil look, but the girl didn't notice.

"How much longer do we have to stay here?" she asked.

Squall shrugged. "However long it takes, I guess."

Xu slapped a preventative hand down across their cards as Rinoa sighed again.

"I _hate_ Trabia."

That statement was out of character enough to draw all of their attention. Even Squall turned from his vigil at the window. Rinoa had been irritable since leaving Balamb, a mysterious malaise steadily eroding her eternal optimism. Cabin fever, Quistis had thought. They all had it. But this statement shifted her diagnosis toward the more serious -- she'd never heard Rinoa say she hated anything, and she'd always liked Trabia. It reminded her, she often said, of Timber before the Galbadian occupation (as if she knew). _Maybe she's sick...or pregnant_. For a few seconds, Quistis reeled under that idea. As much as she liked Rinoa, and as much as she was completely _over_ Squall, the idea of the two actually having sex was something she couldn't wrap her mind around.

Quistis shook her head and put down another card, which Xu immediately turned over on her next move.

She wasn't going to bring it up if no one else was.

"I'll play the winner," Squall offered. He flopped down across from Rinoa and watched her over top one crossed leg.

With one card left in her hand, Quistis smiled at Xu.

"Couldn't we at least go visit Trabia Garden?" Rinoa asked. "Or Esthar?"

"Why would you want to go to Esthar?" Squall snorted.

Rinoa stuck out her tongue at her boyfriend, and Quistis waited for the atmosphere to settle before playing her last move. It was more dramatic that way.

"Same plus combo!" she declared and began turning over cards. Vinzer Deling's gnarled face had never been so damn beautiful as it was peering up from the middle of all those cards.

"What the hell is _that_?" Xu demanded.

"New commemorative card. Won it off Cid the other day."

"Commemorative?" Rinoa barked. "Of what? He runs a brutal dictatorship, kills hundreds of his own people, and he gets his own card?"

"Well, he's a martyr now, you know," Quistis shrugged. "And besides, he just won me the game."

"Killers," Rinoa stated firmly, her eyes wide, "should not have their own cards."

With that, the card flashed and burst into leaping flames, singeing Quistis' hand. "Shit!" she swore and tossed it to the ground where Squall smothered it with his boot. "What the hell? Rinoa!"

She was flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry! I didn't mean to!" She hugged her arms tightly around herself. "Guess I'm feeling a little...uh...high strung. It's just this place, being locked up here. It's driving me crazy."

Quistis frowned and pocketed the remainder of her only slightly blackened cards. Deling had been her ace in the hole. Now he was nothing more than a pile of ash stuck to the bottom of Squall's shoe. She couldn't help but feel irritated. Her arms flew up and crossed themselves tightly over her chest, and she huffed. Xu remained reserved. She slid further down into her chair to stay under the sparks flying between the threesome. The relationship between Quistis and the happy couple had never been hostile, but it was never really easy either.

"This is insane," Squall finally said. "We can't just keep sitting here."

Rinoa perked up, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"What can you do?" Quistis asked, still angry. "Orders are orders."

"Right. And our orders are to assist the investigation. So, we'll assist." He grabbed a piece of Balamb Garden letter head and began scratching words across it with his tiny, straight penmanship.

"What's that?"

"Orders." He finished and signed his name at the bottom. "For you and Zell. You're going to go with them out to the crater tomorrow. Find out how what we can do for them to get out of here sooner rather than later."

Quistis stiffened. "But...isn't the crater dangerous?" She'd had to read over all the medical waivers the teams had signed to enter the area, and she didn't particularly want to grow some tumor the size of a walnut on her face or suffer infertility for the rest of her life.

Squall shrugged and handed her the orders. "Dr. Kadowaki thinks it's safe. Said there's nothing wrong with plants or animals in the area. You should be okay for a day. Besides, students from Trabia Garden go there all the time. Give a copy of that to Zell. I'll write up some more official looking ones for the team."

Rinoa was smiling. "Great! The sooner we get out of here, the better!"

0 0 0

Jack Krier was just getting out of the pool, his legs spongy from laps, when his assistant appeared clutching a black, wireless telephone.

"For you," she said, holding it out toward him.

No kidding.

"It couldn't wait?" he snapped. His whole body reeked of chlorine and his hair felt stiff when he ran a hand through it. Galbadia could wait just five minutes while he showered. At least then he'd feel human enough to be a politician again.

"He said it was an emergency and asked me to interrupt you."

"Who?"

"Said his name is Duran Kitsuma."

Oh. That changes everything.

He grabbed the phone from her and shooed her off with his other hand. He brought the receiver up to his damp ear, dried off his face with a towel, and said, "What is it?"

"President Krier." He could practically see Duran saluting. "We have a small problem."

"Obviously. What is it?" he repeated.

"Commander Leonhart has ordered two of his SeeDs to accompany us into the crater."

"Who?"

"Trepe and Dincht."

Krier vividly remembered Quistis Trepe. Unfortunately, neither she nor Zell Dincht were part of the nameless, faceless ranks like he'd hoped. It was such a small thing, a scientific expedition, that sending even one rank A SeeD, let alone two, was overkill. It wasn't something they'd planned for. Of course, they hadn't exactly planned for it all to take this long either.

"The orders say the SeeDs will evaluate how Garden can help 'streamline the operation.'"

"And what's the status of your operation?"

"Still excavating. But I believe we're almost through the first wall. Past that, it should be easy going."

Krier's mind navigated the possibilities.

"Alright. Take the SeeDs along. Indicate this was an accidental, fortunate discovery. Emphasize...you know...the art or whatever else is there. They should be happy with that. Remember, we need Balamb Garden to stay in the area until we find it. Throw them a bone."

"Yes, Sir."

"And don't call me again. They're getting antsy. Don't give them a reason to send you home."

"Sorry, Sir."

0 0 0

"Whoa!" Zell sprinted to the edge of the crater and peered down into it. "It's humongous! Kinda freaky. Huh, Quistis?"

"Yeah..." A creeping sensation descended along Quistis' spine and her scalp tingled. "Amazing."

"It's about fifteen miles across at it's longest point," one of the men said. Reiss, from Esthar. Quistis remembered his picture from the file.

"How the hell you going to find something in all'a this?" Zell asked.

The question seemed to make Reiss uncomfortable. He glanced at his comrades before saying, "You have to know where to look."

"Have you actually made any progress yet?" Quistis crossed her arms.

The other one from Esthar, Nik, replied, "We've found something interesting around in the middle that we've been investigating. It'll take a couple hours to walk there."

"Great! Let's get going then! I'm a first class repeller and rock climber, you know," Zell yelled from the top of a sandstone outcropping as he shadow boxed energy away like a tea kettle letting off steam.

The drop into the crater was significant, and they had to pick their way down a thin, switch backing path like mountain goats. Quistis' uniform was already dusty-grey by the time they reached the bottom. They were traveling light, each with a small backpack. Quistis' was filled with food, water bottles, a trowel, and collapsible shovel. Curled up along the top, the handle just peeking out an opening in the zipper was Save the Queen. She didn't think she'd need it, this was such a managerial mission, but she felt better having it close at hand. Just in case.

The early morning sun was already high in the sky and beads of sweat were condensing around Quistis' hairline when they set off into the crater. Her black uniform wasn't helping as it radiated heat in toward her body. She loosened her dress tie and looked around at the dry, featureless rock. Down in the crater, they couldn't see the lush Trabian landscape blooming with summer wild flowers or the thick forest. And the mountains, which she could see eternally snow capped in the distance, didn't add any sense of life or vitality to the place.

"What do you suppose happened here?" Zell asked no one in particular. He'd been more than pleased with the mission when Quistis delivered Squall's orders. Sitting stagnant in Garden had been particularly difficult for him. Out in the sun, hiking off into the unknown, his face was flushed with pleasure. "A comet hit, or what? Or a Lunar Cry?"

The girl, Crecentia, turned and glanced at him. "What makes you think it might have been a Lunar Cry?"

"Well, there was that one that destroyed Centra." Zell was a self-proclaimed history buff. "Or how about an earthquake? Or volcano?"

"Actually, there's a fault line that runs right through the crater," Reiss spoke up. He was the geologist, Quistis recalled. "In fact, this area of Trabia is one of the most geologically active in the world. Did you know that?" He gestured in a westerly direction. "Over that way there's a lake that formed about eighty years ago when a big earthquake hit and sent half a mountainside sliding down into the river. Flooded a whole area the size of Deling City. And over there are some really spectacular volcanic cliffs."

For the next half hour, Reiss lectured Zell, who was a good listener and student in spite of his obvious issues with hyperactivity. It was an easy cadence to march to. Quistis kept an ear open for any morsels of information on the crater, but Reiss tended to stick to less pertinent issues.

It was late morning when the four finally stopped and turned around.

"What is it?" Quistis asked. Now that she stopped, she could feel sweat trickling between her shoulder blades.

The Galbadian, Duran, stepped forward. "We know you're here to observe," he announced. "But don't feel like you have to help. This area is pretty...sensitive."

Zell snorted and crossed his arms. "I can be _sensitive_."

"It's alright." Quistis set a hand on Zell's shoulder. "We're just here to judge how Garden can better assist you. We won't interfere with your work."

"You'll understand when you see it," Reiss said. "It's pretty amazing."

_It_?

In the middle of the crater the ground was hard, cracked, and parched. For miles around, there was nothing but jagged chunks of black rock. Yet the dirt was littered with staccato footprints going every which way. Quistis kicked at one of them and pushed her hands into her pockets, unable to fathom what in the middle of nowhere could be so interesting. She and Zell stood side by side, puzzled, and watched the four dig team members scatter across the area, each picking up rocks and moving them a few feet before setting them back down again. Zell shifted his weight to his right foot and scratched his head. "What the hell...?" Reiss was the first one to squat down and begin to roll back what Quistis only belated realized was an ingeniously camouflaged canvas tarp.

"It's under here," he announced. "You'll see..."

Quistis was drawn closer as they rolled the tarp back, revealing a narrow, chiseled staircase that vanished down into the crater floor. The steps were made of a sandy white stone, broken down the middle with a gaping crack that left either side sitting at an incline. Shadow engulfed the stairway before it bottomed out. For a moment, staring down into the pit, Quistis' mind stopped functioning. Of all the things she'd expected to see out in the crater, a mysterious ancient staircase was probably the last on her list. Yet here it was, inexplicably, plunging into the unknown.

"What's down there?" Zell asked.

"We haven't finished digging it out yet," Crecentia replied as she pulled a flashlight from her backpack, then said, "The air's pretty stale down there. You're not claustrophobic, are you?" She didn't wait for an answer, but started down the stairs, her flashlight beam waving back and forth, piercing into the darkness in front of her.

"You think this has something to do with the interference?" Zell called out as he darted down after her, nearly tripping on the first cracked step.

Left with no choice but to follow, Quistis took a deep breath of fresh air and began her descent, Reiss and Duran at her back. The stairway was narrow, just wide enough for Quistis to stretch out her arms and touch either side. And the steps themselves were small, making the long trip to the bottom a jarring experience. Coming from the blazing, unbroken sun of the crater, the stairway seemed ominously dark. Zell had already vanished, and behind her Duran's flashlight played across her legs, casting long, jumping shadows. She almost lost her balance at the bottom when level ground lurched up to meet her expectant foot.

"Check it out!" Zell's emphatic face thrust into a flashlight beam and approached her.

Quistis had to blink a few times before the blues and blacks resolved themselves into soft pastels and shades of gray. The mysterious stairway ended in a flat, short hall, at the end of which stood a massive wall, still partially obscured by rubble. It was made of the same white stone as the stairway and glittered invitingly in the dark. Less inviting, but all together more intriguing, was the black frame that surrounded the wall, glowing an eerie blue green.

"What is this?" It was all Quistis could bring herself to say.

Reiss cast her an amused grin and said, "It's a wall." His smile fell when she didn't return it and he elaborated. "We don't know exactly. That's why we're here, right? To study. And...well...it does seem sort of curious."

Quistis walked up to the frame and pressed her fingers against it. The rock was smooth and warm, elegant and alive. "Do you think this is what's causing the problem? Some rare mineral in here?"

"Definitely not _those_ minerals. This," he motioned to the frame, "is a type of volcanic glass. Hardly rare. The wall here, and the stairs there, are rhyolite, also igneous. Kind of like granite but not so coarse. Perfectly normal and quite common in this region, actually."

Quistis ran her fingers across the broad edifice, lost in a daydream as the team went to work. She could imagine some ancient Trabian standing right where she was, putting the finishing touches on this grand entryway, his loving palms pressed flat against the old earth or caressing the masonry like a lover. She wondered what the crater was like then. Was that why they'd built here? Was it even a crater then? For that matter, she thought with a flash of skepticism, was this place even ancient? It looked like it, felt like it, even smelled like it. And she wanted to believe.

The work was hot, cramped, and difficult. With barely enough room to pass by one another, only three could dig at a time. The other three took turns going up and down the steps, hauling out debris and buckets of sandy sediment. The mind numbing monotony was only slightly worse than the ache in Quistis' calves and back after an hour's worth of stairs. They were all covered in a thick crust of filth when they paused for lunch (a brown paper bag packed by the cafeteria with a sandwich, apple, granola bar, and some hard candies).

"Are you sure this shouldn't be left to the professionals?" Quistis asked between mouthfuls of peanut butter and jelly. In the books she'd read about archaeology, scientists approached sites with toothbrushes, not garden shovels.

"We are the professionals," Duran grunted.

"Yeah. But this isn't really in the scope of your mission," she replied.

"We're fairly certain the interference is coming from this area," Duran informed her smugly. "We're pretty sure it's something down there."

After lunch, she switched to digging and so was on her knees beside Reiss when he went rigid and sucked in a quick breath.

"What is it?" She leaned over his shoulder and looked at the bleached section of wall he'd uncovered. Unlike the rest, which was covered in writing and carved figures, this piece was smooth and polished.

"It's a plaster patch," he told her. "Someone fixed the wall right here once."

"We should go in through there," Crecentia said and nudged Reiss out of the way. "Whoever was last in here, that's where they went in and out. It's our best bet."

Supposing there was something on the other side of the wall, Quistis wasn't at all certain it was a place they belonged. It felt a little bit like blasphemy or desecration. Whatever this place was, whoever built it wanted people to stay out, or they wouldn't have erected a stone wall to begin with. She let out a strangled cry when Crecentia brought a hammer out of her backpack and plowed the head into the door, chipping a chunk of pristine plaster off onto the ground. The woman swung over and over again, the dark muscles in her arms tensing and releasing powerfully as the plaster crumbled under every blow.

"What the hell's goin' on?" Zell appeared with the other two, drawn by the noise.

"Out of the way." Duran shouldered past the shocked Zell and ripped the hammer from his companion to take over the task. Quistis and Zell stood, impotent, as the Galbadian attacked the ancient wall. This was far out of Quistis' field of expertise -- maybe this was normal, she thought. It was just a bit of plaster, after all. They hadn't plowed through the part of the wall that actually included writing. Duran's swings were more devastating than Crecentia's, releasing huge plums of dust into the already stagnant atmosphere. When his hammer broke through, plunging into black nothing, Quistis could see air rush out among the dust motes. There was a sense of urgency about the four team members as they leaned down and pointed their flashlights through the opening.

"Can you see anything?" Quistis whispered, crowding at their backs.

"Not much..." Reiss glanced back at her.

His face was ruddy, his eyes bulging. Quistis, too, was caught up in the excitement as they took to the plaster anew, breaking it off now in large, heavy slabs they tossed aside until the opening was large enough to shove a backpack through, which Duran did without hesitation. They listened as it plunged into the shadows. Then, feet forward and flashlight pinched between his teeth, he wriggled after it.

"You can stay here if you want," Crecentia told them as she followed Duran down the proverbial rabbit hole. "We'll be back before dark."

"Come on, Quistis." Zell grabbed her arm at the elbow.

She didn't want to say that the idea of squeezing through a crack in the wall made her stomach clench. That it wasn't tactically sound. That it wasn't rational. And that thoughts of the tight, hot space beyond made her sweat. So, she pulled her arm from Zell's grip and pushed her own backpack into the abyss. After all, it couldn't be any worse than the Deling City sewers with their thick, dank stench and marauding population of flat, leach-like creeps that could just as well peel off a wall to attack as slither out from under a pile of refuse. Sucking in her stomach, Quistis slipped through the hole.

She slid down a rocky incline and was thrown to her side at the bottom when her feet tangled with her backpack straps in the dark. Self-conscious, she brushed off her knees and adjusted her skirt which had ridden up her thighs on the way down. The creeping sense that they were trespassing flew away as she got to her feet and took a look around in the murky light provided by Duran and Crecentia's flashlights.

Hardly the small space she'd imagined, the room beyond the wall was cavernous and smelled sweet like perfume. Duran had his light angled across the far wall, which was covered from ceiling to floor in vivid paintings of black bulls, blooming flowers, anthropomorphic red dragons, and ancient heroes wearing swords and animal skins. Blocky script sliced through the mural in thick columns. And scattered about the floor, haphazard and careless amongst dirt and rocks, were heaps of broken pottery that cast jagged, menacing shadows across the room.

Quistis was awed and only had the presence of mind to collect her things and move when Zell's backpack came flying down the incline and hit her hard in the calf, buckling one leg.

Pottery crunched under her boots as she walked toward Duran. She hissed and walked on her toes, flinching every time some irretrievable piece of history turned to dust under her ignorant step.

"Wow," Zell said in a hushed whisper behind her. "Suppose this is Ancient Centran? From when Trabia was part of the Centran Empire."

"Ancient Centran?" Quistis paused in front of a painting of a man with what looked like flames for hair, her stomach heavy. A memory of Bob Shipey, red faced, raising his fist at President Krier flashed across her mind. It was too much of a coincidence, and she turned her gaze toward Reiss and Nik as they came down through the hole with a new sense of suspicion.

"Maybe," Duran replied offhandedly, engrossed in examining the walls. His lips were moving silently. And his eyes were narrowed, hard and hot.

"You know, if it is..." Zell trailed off for a second and glanced at Quistis. "It's a pretty big deal. Everything in Centra was destroyed during the Lunar Cry. Ancient Centran stuff is really rare now."

Realization hit Quistis like a lightning bolt. _Treasure._ Hardly honest, but not exactly nefarious either. And certainly the greedy sort of undertaking she could contribute to a mind like Krier's. If Dr. Shipey had somehow discovered that heaps of gold bullion and priceless relics were buried in the crater, the still financially strapped Galbadian government would be keen on retrieving it. The only question remained, why work with Esthar to do it? She doubted that Krier wanted to share the wealth or even the history -- he'd evidently fired Shipey from the project once he had the information he needed. Perhaps, she thought while watching Nik and Reiss rifle through the pottery sherds, it was only way to conduct business in the area without wary onlookers. If the Galbadians had come in alone and began digging mere miles from Esthar and Trabia Garden...the response would have been swift.

_Squall's going to call this whole mission off. And better him than me._ The four looked positively enchanted as they roamed the room with wide, hungry eyes. They were franticly bouncing ideas off one another.

"There must be hundreds of pots here. All broken. Why do you suppose they broke them? Is it part of some kind of ritual?"

"It smells like perfume. Do you think they were filled with oils or incense?"

"You couldn't still smell it after all this time, could you?"

Quistis blinked hard and rolled back on her heels, remembering the vague scent of cinnamon and honey that had permeated the air around Odin in his chamber. And she remembered the sweet, thick air that had fallen around them on the Lunatic Pandora when Odin drove himself onto Seifer's blade and unraveled. Here she could almost sense the old guardian's presence again drifting on the aromatic drafts.

"We should keep going further in," this time, Duran was speaking. "There must be more than this." For the first time since they'd entered the chamber, he swung his light away from the writing on the wall and pointed it further down the chamber. "That way."

Being the only two bereft of flashlights, Quistis and Zell walked in the middle of the pack. They had to take a meandering path through the broken pottery and around a charred hillock in the back of the chamber. Tucked in by the dark, wrapped in the pleasant chill and sacred, sweet air, it was easy to forget what was outside: free-roving military academies; tense, opposing ideologies; a world still devoid of certitude. For the moment, figuring that it couldn't hurt anyone, Quistis allowed herself to fully give way to the heart-throbbing sensation of exploration. She was suddenly very aware that no one had walked this path through the pottery in well over a thousand years; that every breath she took was one exhaled by an artisan whose bones had long since turned to dust.

At the back of the tall, wide entrance chamber was another black frame made of the same volcanic glass that comprised the entryway. However, there was no massive, stone slab blocking their path through this passage. Only another set of sandy, white stairs leading further down. Further into the earth, into the darkness.

They went down single file.

Even here, in what seemed like incredibly tight confines after the open expanse of the first chamber, the walls were covered from ceiling to floor in thick paint, slathered on like frosting in small, crenellated waves. As they moved further down, the paint slowly began to crust over with rough, angry scabs. The growths became so overwhelming after a few feet that they obscured the pictures.

"What are these?" Quistis asked, reaching out to touch one.

Crecentia slapped her hand away. "Mold and fungus. Don't touch it. This paint is organic...made from plant and animal byproducts. The incense in the front chamber probably kept it from growing there. It's dead now. But we don't want to be breathing its dust."

"The King's Curse," Zell said. "Breathing enough in could be fatal."

"How do you know so much about this?" Quistis couldn't recall ever seeing Zell pick up a book outside of the classroom, and his inexplicable knowledge of obscure history was beginning to get irritating.

"Documentaries. Used to watch them with my mom."

As difficult as it was to imagine Zell watching educational programming, Quistis didn't have long to think about it. They emerged out of the stairway into another large chamber. The beam from their flashlights couldn't reach the other side, but did illuminate an odd diorama that took her breath away. At their feet, like a child's playhouse, spread a city built, she estimated, at one third scale. Duran moved his flashlight across the nearest building, a squat pavilion with a sharply inclined roof, and up toward the ceiling. It yawned like sky over them, shiny black and glittering with stars that caught the light and refracted it into a hundred dancing sprites.

"Are those diamonds?" Zell asked. _Treasure_. She knew it.

"I don't think so," Reiss replied. "I think they're crystals. There's a kind that naturally occurs around here...though rarely. Looks sort of like this. But I've never seen this much in one place before."

The tiny town stretched out in all directions, giving them a disproportionate sense of grandeur as they stepped into it and walked down the perfectly realistic cobblestone streets. It was all, Quistis supposed, exactly how an Ancient Centran town would have looked. Or, maybe not so much a town as temple complex or sprawling palace. Stopping in front of one beautiful building with stocky columns and high, arched windows, Quistis peered in. The shadows didn't reveal much in the way of furnishings until Reiss stopped beside her and pointed his flashlight inside, illuminating a crumbling, pink face.

"God!" Quistis yelped and stumbled backward a step, startled. "There are people inside!"

"Little pottery people," Reiss added when their companions snapped to attention.

Every building was filled with them -- tiny, terracotta effigies, each of them an individual. Quistis made a point of looking at them as they passed. There were men, women, and children from all walks of life. Some clearly quite happy (she spotted one pair fully engaged in what looked like vigorous, doggy style sex...though perhaps they'd just fallen together that way) and some were wracked with pain. It was a cross-section of Centran society, forever frozen in time. It was simultaneously a work of exquisite love and of frightening devotion. A beautiful love letter written with a stalker's eye for detail.

Nik stopped in front of a wooden bridge and swore. The wooden planks were oddly warped and discolored a dark gray. Underneath them glittered a pale, smooth river. Nothing disturbed the water and it reflected back at them like a mirror. Hesitantly, with a toe, Nik reached out and touched the first plank. An explosive cloud of dust shot into the air as the entire structure collapsed, leaving them stranded on the river bank. "Damn..." Nik coughed and waved the thick dust away from his face. "Now what?"

"What's the problem?" Zell asked. "Let's just keep going. We can jump it, or wade, or whatever." He started toward the water, but Nik grabbed his arm and hauled him back.

"I don't think that's water."

Quistis crept closer, needing a better look. The powdery remnants of the bridge were scattered across the top of the river as if sitting on stone. Not even a ripple made it's way through the long, silvery vein that meandered through the middle of the tiny town. "What is it?"

Reiss squatted down at the river's edge, a hard and assessing look on his face. "I think..." his hand moved slowly, haltingly, like a nervous dog. "It's hard to tell in this light, but I think it's..." The tip of one finger gingerly jabbed at the surface, and he let out a long sigh of relief. "Zinc." As an afterthought, he added. "Was worried it might be mercury."

"Then we can just walk across," Duran said. "It's solid."

Reiss rapped on the bluish-white metal with his knuckles and nodded. "Should be safe."

All six managed to cross the polished zinc river without incident, though Zell had to be coaxed off onto the far bank. He glanced reluctantly down at his reflection before grumbling and accepting a hand up onto the stone walkway. "It's like bein' some sort of sorcerer, you know? Walking on water. Irvine and Selphie are gonna be pissed they didn't get to come when we tell them about this," Zell said, beaming. "I mean, _look_ at this. A river of solid zinc! This is _amazing_!"

They had to make their way along the far wall for five minutes before they found the exit, a more modest door without the black frame the others had, and another set of stairs leading them ever further down. Down, down, into the shadows.

A few feet down this set of stairs, they came up against an unexpected stumbling block. Huge slabs of stone barracaded the way, perilously perched together seesaw-like against one another and the walls. They all stood for a moment in silence until Duran gestured with his flashlight and said, "I think we can squeeze through right there."

"You want to _squeeze_ through?" Quistis asked, crossing her arms. "This is hardly stable. It could all fall down and kill you."

"It's not going to fall," Duran replied, rolling his eyes. "It's probably been sitting like this for a thousand years. If it hasn't all come down by now, it's not going to."

"Seems to me it's just waiting for someone to try and crawl through it."

"Quistis is right," Zell chimed in. "The interference isn't worth risking your life for." He put a comforting hand on Duran's wide, solid shoulder and squeezed. "Besides, look at all that you guys have discovered just today! You can spend some time analyzing that, right? Maybe it's something up there, not down here that you're looking for."

"No." He was adamant. "I know it's not up there. And I know that it has to be down here. We're right here, and it's right there. I'm going to try to get through and see what I can find."

The other three were getting uneasy as well, though Crecentia offered to hold Duran's backpack. Nik and Reiss stood back, mumbling something harsh about Galbadians under their breath.

"Shouldn't we...uh...you know, interfere?" Zell whispered in Quistis' ear as Duran got down on his belly in front of the largest gap.

She shrugged. "That's not really part of our mission. What are we going to do? Kill him so he doesn't kill himself?"

"We could restrain him or something."

They watched as Duran's bushy head vanished into the gap. He had to turn on his side to get his shoulders through and his boots levered against the steps to push the rest of his body forward. No one breathed. Quistis couldn't hear anything except the dry scraping of Duran's jeans on the sandy ground. His torso vanished. Then his knees. And finally, at his ankles, he paused.

"What's wrong?" Crecentia demanded.

He gave a muffled reply they couldn't make out, but his toes strained hard.

"Are you stuck? We can pull you back out!" Crencentia called again. Quistis doubted Duran could hear them any better than they could hear him. And when Crecentia grabbed Duran's ankle, he let loose with a savage lunge. She saw his heel connect with one of the stairs and then was aware only of a deep, grinding sound and a shifting of weight that threw off her sense of balance. They all stepped back, horror stricken, and watched as the stones grumbled. Duran's feet disappeared into the gap just seconds before one of the load bearing rocks in the middle gave way, tumbling the whole thing inward.

Quistis and Zell had to jump to the side to avoid a heavy boulder that rolled their way. Zell's body slammed into Quistis', knocking her hard into the wall and squeezing the air from her lungs. Somehow in the chaos, she ended up on her backside, dizzy and disoriented between Nik and Reiss. Her lungs burned, the searing pain ripping through her chest and gripping it like a vice. She sputtered hopelessly. No one seemed to notice as they ran toward the settling pile of rubble that had fallen into the next chamber on top of Duran. Left alone in the darkness on the stairs, Quistis squeezed her eyes shut and tired again to draw in a breath.

Come on. It's okay. Calm down. Just...breathe.

She'd had the breath knocked out of her before, when she was thirteen and training against a bigger fourteen year old boy. It was just as petrifying then as it was now. Oxygen came back to her in short gasps. By the time she was well enough to rejoin the others, they had already scrambled into the next chamber and were gathered around a menacing, flat slab of rhyolite. Duran's head peeked over the edge.

Quistis stumbled over to them, her chest still tight and gasped out, "Is he alright?"

"My foot..." he mumbled.

It didn't take long for Quistis to realize what everyone was looking at. His entire foot from the ankle down was trapped under the rock.

"Oh..._oh._ God. We need to get this off of him and get him back to Garden immediately."

Zell, Reiss, and Nik all hooked their fingers under one side.

"Lift on the count of three," Quistis commanded. "Crecentia and I will pull him out."

Zell lifted more than his share, the muscles in his arms bulging and straining. They were easily able to move Duran out from under it. His foot was intact, but definitely broken in multiple places. Quistis couldn't help giving him a scolding, teacher look that said, "I told you so" before she rested her hand on his calf and muttered "Cure." The spell flowed warmly out her fingertips. It wouldn't heal his broken bones, but it would ease the pain and the shock.

"Someone's going to have to carry him," Quistis announced.

When she looked up from Duran, no one was looking back at her.

"I don't believe it," Reiss said, ignoring her. "This is it."

"I knew it!" Duran gasped out, motioning for Crecentia to help him up. Quistis was astonished. Either this man was the most professionally committed person she had ever met, or there was something here much more significant than old pottery and a whole lot of rock. Maybe something even more important than money.

For the first time, she took note of the chamber they were standing in. It wasn't as large as either of the two previous ones and was completely dominated by a massive, black doorway that had a short series of strong letters carved into it and small, vivid paintings slashing through the middle. Heaps of rock were piled about helter-skelter. It wasn't nearly as impressive, she thought, as the room with the tiny town. But Duran hopped on one foot over to the door, able to ignore the pain either due to shock, the cure spell, or a sudden surge of passion -- Quistis wasn't sure which. He reached out with one hand and touched the door, his fingers trembling.

"Finally," he sighed. "_Hyne_."

"Hyne?" Quistis walked over to them, frustrated. "What's--"

"Holy chocobos!" Zell interrupted her. He was holding a softball sized rock in his hand. "These are people!" He turned it toward them. Large empty sockets leered out of the skull which was broken just below the nose. "I think...these are all people."

The chamber was filled with bones.

"Human sacrifices?" Reiss wondered aloud. "They're all so small..."

Quistis felt sick. "They're children?" She remembered what she'd heard of Hyne as a little girl; how the first sorceress had roamed the countryside killing children. Seifer, she vaguely recalled, had once frightened her with stories that someday Hyne would come and get her, too. "There must be dozens of them here..."

"It doesn't matter," Duran said, his palm pressed flat against the door. "They've been dead for ages. It doesn't matter why they're here. We need to get this door open."

A shiver crawled up Quistis spine and lodged itself at the base of her neck.

"What's this all have to do with Hyne?" she asked, feeling a whisper of the old terror that had kept her up at night long ago.

"What? Nothing. That's just what this says. 'Hyne.' Help me push." Duran was pushing against the door with his shoulder, his weight on his good leg. Crecentia and Nik joined him, their boots snapping bones as they strained.

"How do you know it says Hyne?" Zell asked.

"He knows a little bit of Ancient Centran," Reiss explained.

"Nobody knows Ancient Centran," Zell replied.

"Duran does."

"And so does Dr. Bob Shipey..." Quistis added, putting the pieces together.

"Come on. Help! We've almost got it!" Duran yelled. The stone door was sliding against the floor, opening up into the area beyond labeled only with the frightening moniker -- _Hyne_.

Quistis focused blankly upon the door, her muddled mind working over it all. Ancient Centra. Krier. Hyne. The crater. How did it all come together? What was really here? Suddenly, she was afraid to find out.

She stared hard at the door as they pushed it open, the letters and the pictures seeming to come to alive and blend together. Her eyes widened as the sheer, onyx face jumped and seemed to punch outward toward her. The world moved underneath her and the fragmented paintings began to move: the little man with the sword was swinging it, the dragon bellowed and shuddered in its death throws. The writing curled and crawled along the door. And then, with a shocking high pitched squeal that made her flinch, the door vanished away, leaving a deep and unknowable chasm beyond. Was it the chamber? She peered in, trying to follow forms and shadows only to loose them in the vast, primordial chaos.

She thought she heard a voice, ancient and dusty. She thought she saw some slouching shadow.

"Fuck!"

The expletive rocked her and she snapped to attention. The door, solid and very real, was open far enough for Duran to poke his head through. No darkness. No beast. No voice.

"There's nothing," Duran said.

"But I thought I saw..." Quistis shook her head. _You're going crazy._

"It's empty."

0 0 0

Rinoa woke suddenly, not sure what had roused her from sleep. Her breathing was heavy, and she was hot. Irritated and still to sleepy to think straight, she kicked off the covers hoping to cool herself and tried valiantly to slip back into unconsciousness. But something lurked at the back of her mind. She pulled the covers hard back over her body and was cowering for reasons she didn't completely understand when Squall came into the room.

"Rinoa? Are you awake?" His footsteps made their way over to her bed in the dark. One hand reached out and touched her heated body, and for a moment she considered feigning sleep.

"What is it?" she sighed, trying to calm down. She really wasn't feeling well. What could be so important?

"I'm going to be gone for the evening," he announced and sat down. "I know you haven't been feeling well. I'm sorry."

If somehow Squall believed that his presence could cure what was ailing her, he was more arrogant than she'd ever given him credit for. Although, now that he was here beside her, she found she didn't want him to go.

"I'm going out to the crater with Irvine. Quistis and Zell haven't come back yet."

Rinoa didn't care about the two teams investigating the crater. She didn't even particularly care about Zell or Quistis at the moment, although Quistis' name gave her a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach. All she cared about was getting back to sleep and away from the painful physical reality of her body. And away from that damnable crater. The thought of it sent a tide of nausea through her.

"Why do _you_ have to go?" she found herself asking.

"I'm the one who sent them." He reached out and caressed her face in a rare moment of real affection. "You feel hot. Want me to get you a glass of water?"

Rinoa nodded, and she heard him get up and leave the room. A few moments later he returned and pressed a cool glass into her hand.

"Where's Angelo?" Squall suddenly asked.

"I...I don't know." She swallowed. "Look...Quistis and Zell can take care of themselves, Squall. Please, stay with me tonight." She reached out and clutched his hand. "I don't want to be alone."

She didn't want to add that as she said that word -- _alone_ -- she felt something stir in her head. A low, dusty voice. A slouching shadow.

"_Please_, Squall. Don't go."


	6. Dazzled and Dismayed

Chapter 5: Dazzled and Dismayed

"Irvy! It's just getting to the good part! You'll love it, I promise!" Selphie jabbed the pause button on Irvine's remote like she was squashing a bug, pausing the two people on his TV who were standing in front of a rickety old house in the pouring rain.

"Sorry, Selph." Irvine shrugged and showed her his pager which was blinking and buzzing insistently. "Duty calls." _Thank God._ He wasn't sure how much more of this so called "romantic drama" he could stand. He'd already been watching the movie with her for forty five minutes, and nothing had happened. There was some big fuss over a house, a whole lot of tense glances, and about ten times the dialogue any good movie should ever contain. No one had died. Nothing had exploded. As far as he could tell, there was no actual plot. And, to top it off, the main characters hadn't even kissed. It was a sleeper; and Irvine was content to answer Squall's page rather than sit in a semi-dark room while Selphie stared at the television screen and deftly avoided the various advances his right foot was making against hers.

He stuffed the offending foot into a boot.

"Besides, it says it's about Quistis and Zell." Sort of. The short-hand message Squall had fired off to Irvine's page actually said, "_Re: Q/Z. ASAP. -Sq."_ Even in type, Squall was notoriously pithy.

"What's wrong with Quistis and Zell?" Selphie's expression softened.

"Dunno." He retrieved his gun from the closet and stuffed three boxes of ammunition into his pockets. "You can stay here and finish the movie if you want. Let me know how it ends though." He winked.

Selphie grinned and waved.

At least, Irvine reflected as he walked out into the dorm hallway, it wasn't Laguna's old "Sorceress Knight" movie. Selphie had discovered that cinematic gem dusty and buried in the A/V room at the back of the library. It had only been checked out once, about ten years ago, and had a huge, smiling picture of Laguna Loire on the cover -- younger, holding a gunblade, and looking very much like Squall. Selphie had forced everyone to watch the poorly plotted, amatuerly acted movie over and over with her. And she still dissolved into trembling, snotty tears at the end when Laguna's knight character sacrificed himself to save his white-robed sorceress.

Up on the bridge, Squall was conspicuously absent.

"I think he went down to let Rinoa know where he was going," Xu informed him.

"So...like, what's up exactly?" Irvine asked.

"Quistis and Zell went into the crater today and haven't returned yet," she replied. "Squall's worried about them." Outside, the sun had just set. Day was still visibly bleeding into night across the blushing sky. Irvine had to squint to make out the form of the crater in the distance, hazy in the oblique light. He sighed -- it would be pitch black out before they even got out of Garden.

"Well...the sooner we get going the better then, huh? I'll go find him."

Xu waved absently and didn't bother looking up from the file folder spread open in her lap as he walked out. There was no love lost between the two. A healthy vein of respect threaded between them, but the woman was a little too stoic and serious for Irvine's taste; and her innate ability to resist charm made him uneasy. He'd personally witnessed her walk right by a whimpering puppy in Dollet without so much as glancing its way. Before that moment, Irvine had taken it for granted that the possession of breasts and a womb somehow created in women a fundamental need to mother the cute, cuddly, and vulnerable creatures of the world. Xu threw that theory all out of wack. And with someone like that, Irvine didn't stand a chance.

He was still thinking about dogs on his way back to the dormitory wing when Angelo barked and trotted over to him.

"Hey. What are you doin' here?" he asked, reaching out to scratch the back of her head. "Aren't you supposed to be with Rinoa?"

Angelo licked Irvine's palm and curled her body into a tight, wriggling crescent.

"Come on. I'll take you home. I'm going that way anyway." He grabbed her collar and gave it a tug. Angelo fell happily into step alongside him. "Good girl," he praised.

When Irvine got to Squall's dorm room door, he knocked and waited. He was surprised that he hadn't already found Squall on the way. He'd fully figured the commander would run into him somewhere around the parking garage with that sour "where've you been?" look on his face. But the hallways were dim and still. In fact, Irvine had to knock a second time before he made out the sound of approaching footsteps in the room and the door hissed open to reveal a disheveled, dazed looking Squall.

_Oh my God._ Irvine had to stifle a chuckle. Had he interrupted something?

"What is it?" Squall asked.

"You paged me. And I found your dog."

Squall blinked and gripped the door frame with his white-knuckled left hand. "I...paged you?" His unfocused eyes scanned Irvine's face.

"Yeah. About Quistis and Zell." _Boy. Rinoa must really be something in the sack._ "Xu says we're gonna go out to the crater to get them. And it's getting pretty dark already, so we should...you know...get going."

"Oh. Ah...no." Squall blew some hair out of his eyes and shook his head. "They already came back."

"They did?"

"Yeah. Of course. It's dark out."

"Okay...well...nobody told me," Irvine shrugged. "You could'a paged me again to let me know. The mission's off then?"

Squall seemed confused. "Xu said they're missing?"

"No. She said you paged me because they hadn't come back yet."

"Oh. Well, they're back. It's fine."

"Good." Irvine looked down at Angelo who was standing across the hallway with her butt pressed up against the wall and her nose in the air. "Either way. Brought the dog back. She was running the halls unattended. Weren't you girl?"

Angelo gave Squall and the doorway he was standing in a dubious look.

"Come on." Squall patted his thigh.

Angelo didn't budge but took in several side heaving sniffs.

"Go on. Get in there." Irvine took her by the collar again to pull her toward the door, but Angelo braced her feet on the tile and shook her head, working the collar up over her ears and off. She retreated again, leaving Irvine standing awkward with her empty collar dangling from his fingertips.

"Listen," Squall sighed. "Can you just take her for the night? Rinoa's not feeling well."

"Uh...sure. I guess."

"Thanks. And tell Xu to go ahead and move out." Squall started to turn around and head back into the room, but Irvine stopped him.

"Move out?"

"Back to Balamb. The mission's over."

Irvine didn't have the opportunity to ask why. The door slid shut, leaving him standing shell-shocked beside the uneasy Angelo. They looked at one another, then started silently down the hall together. Irvine felt out of the loop. Quistis and Zell had evidently come back in the last few minutes and had obviously delivered some detrimental news regarding the crater and the investigation there. He wasn't able to relay the message any more clearly than that to Xu ten minutes later, but with assurances the order came directly from Squall, she complied and turned Garden away from the crater.

When Irvine returned to his dorm room with Angelo in tow, Selphie was still in the middle of her movie. Angelo vaulted onto the bed beside her and licked her face as the girl squealed with delight.

"Are we babysitting, Irvy?" she asked. "Booyaka! Guess that's what Squall needed, huh? So, everything's okay?"

"Yeah." He pulled off his boots and put his gun back away. "Fine. I think..."

0 0 0

"Float!"

Quistis sighed. "Zell, you can't keep casting him on that every few minutes. You're going to have to just carry him."

She'd lost track of how long they'd been walking and how many times Zell had yelled "float" in her ear. Duran's adrenaline had worn off and he was now dimwitted with pain, hovering a foot off the ground and being pulled along by his good foot. Quistis hesitated to cast another cure spell on him -- with broken bones, it was always a gamble. Just enough magic would ease the pain, but too much would cause the bones to fuse back together and they'd have to be re-broken to be correctly set.

"Can't be much further now," Zell replied, then looked at the others for confirmation.

Crecentia just shrugged and looked up at the sky. Nik and Reiss didn't even so much as acknowledge the comment. They'd hardly breathed a word since Duran had shoved open the door deep in the bowels of the earth and proclaimed, "it's empty." Quistis sensed that some plan had gone awry in a major way. The treasure they'd been after, whatever it was, wasn't there and they didn't seem to have a contingency plan. Though with as subdued and visibly disappointed as they were, she couldn't bring herself to press hard for answers. Squall could do that. That was his job. For the moment, she figured she'd do hers and get them back to Garden.

They'd been underground longer than she'd thought and not long after they arrived back on the surface, the sun set leaving them to pick their way back to Garden in the dark. Walking in the crater by the hard, platinum light of the moon was eerie. Thinking back on the crypt carpeted with the crumbling remains of ancient children, she shivered.

Would Laguna be crushed, she wondered, when he discovered how President Krier had betrayed his trust? Would this fiasco only further exacerbate tensions between Galbadia and Esthar? Really, it was a damn shame. The interference was actually worth investigating, while the treasure hunting and tomb robbing was better left to the ivory tower professionals. Archaeologists would probably spend years in the pottery chamber alone, cataloging every piece and gluing the pots back together to display in museum cases. They'd probably even have some mundane reason to explain the miniature city and the bone pile. She wasn't sure if their unwavering reason and well placed history would add to or eliminate the skin-tingling, spooky magic the ruin seemed to possess.

"Argh! Float! I swear, this isn't lasting as long as it should."

Duran coasted past Quistis with a frustrated Zell not far behind.

Eventually, they found the switch backing trail that led them back out of the crater and climbed onto the grass, spooking a mesmerize that Quistis sent galloping off into the distance with a lash of her whip. Save the Queen flashed, then coiled loving and cool around her hand.

"Float!"

"Damnit, Zell. Aren't you almost out of those?"

"Almost."

"His sense of balance is going to be off for weeks. And why are you stocked with so many float spells anyway?" Duran had somehow wobbled over so that he was upside down, his hair grazing the ground, and every time he kicked to try and right himself he let out a pained cry. Zell just shrugged. He was always inexplicably prepared for missions. Quistis shook her head, crossed her arms, and motioned for everyone to follow her. "Let's just get back."

"Hold on."

She paused and turned toward Reiss. "What?"

Even in the dark, she could make out the uneasy expression on his face. "Where's all the lights?"

"Lights?"

"Garden..."

Quistis swung around, a crawling sensation moving up her spine. Off to the east the ambient glow of Trabia Garden reflected off the mountains and the clouds. But in the direction they were headed the rolling plains and dense crops of forest were peaceful and dark. The sight was more desolate and empty than even the deep interior of the crater and it made Quistis blood course with hot, liquid fear.

"Are they running dark?" Dark operation existed in the Garden handbook, but she'd never seen it actually go into effect. If it was, it meant that Garden was in serious trouble. And if they weren't...

"You don't think they -- " Zell stopped when Quistis shot him a squinty-eyed glare and didn't even notice when his float wore off Duran, dropping the disoriented Galbadian onto his back in the grass. He finished the thought anyway. "What if they left us?"

"No. They wouldn't leave us. They can't."

She couldn't wrap her mind around the idea, not just because it felt so cold and impersonal but because Garden was under contract, and breaking that contract would bring both Galbadia and Esthar down on them. They weren't required per the contact to remain in Trabia through out the day, but to not be present to pick the teams up in the evening was a clear breach.

"They _must_ be running dark. Let's keep going."

Zell grew quiet, too as they continued on. Quistis kept her whip poised, mentally preparing herself for a wide range of possibilities: Galbadian attack, massive revolt, an outbreak of some rare disease, or even the more mundane power-outage. It was entirely possible an assault on Garden was the real plan and that this crater expedition was just a ruse. Although, she acknowledged, at a mere stone's throw from Trabia Garden, that scenario was unlikely. But that left only one reasonable possibility, and as the crater shrunk into the distance behind them she was forced to accept it as a reality. The grip of her fingers loosened around her whip.

"They left us..." she breathed, coming to a stop. She glanced at Zell, wondering if he felt as abandoned and alone as she did. Balamb Garden was home, filled with all the friends and family she had in the world. Now, they had sailed away and left her in the middle of this botched, ill-conceived mission with nowhere to go. She felt uncomfortably like she had been orphaned for a second time. Zell looked puzzled, but hardly betrayed. Of course, he had another home and another family.

Crecentia dropped to her haunches and let out a quiet, "Shit."

"Do you know something about this?" Quistis spun around on her heel so fast the grass tore underneath her.

"What? No! It's just...what do we do now? It's dark. Garden's not here. Duran's foot is broken. The tomb is empty. It sort of feels a little bit like failure."

"What exactly were you expecting to find?" Zell asked as he came over to stand next to Quistis.

"Like Duran said, we isolated the source of the interference to that specific area of the crater. Once we found the entryway to that tomb, we were hoping to find whatever was causing it inside."

"In the final chamber?" Quistis arched an eyebrow. "The one that said 'Hyne' on the door?"

"We already told you," Reiss butted in. "We didn't see anything odd in the first few chambers. Nothing that could cause the kind of energy field that's around the crater, anyway. And it makes sense that if there is an object inside of the crater that has those sort of properties that the Ancient Centrans may have actually built around it."

"You sure seem to know a lot about Ancient Centra for a bunch of scientists," Zell replied.

The three were beginning to bristle.

"We're academics and professionals," Nik said. "We do our homework. And we knew very well coming here that Ancient Centra makes up ninety percent of Trabian history. So we studied up on it. To be prepared. Besides, it's basic history and common sense."

"Well, it was my understanding that only Dr. Robert Shipey of Deling City University knew how to read Ancient Centran," Quistis said.

"We don't know how to read Ancient Cent--"

"Duran does," she interrupted. "You told me he can. He read 'Hyne' off that door."

Duran, hearing his name, groaned and rolled over on the ground. The rest stood pinned in place by the gaze of the two armed and angry SeeDs, uncertain how to reply.

Finally, Reiss offered, "Dr. Shipey is one of the directors of this project. We've all studied under him at one time or another. That's why we volunteered."

So, Quistis thought, that was why the man had been upset enough at the dinner to assault President Krier. He hadn't been fired from some dead end committee sucking up resources, but from a still live and vital project that was close to completion. The research that brought these four to Trabia probably represented years of dedication on Shipey's part. And it only added insult to injury that what they were after in the crater was obviously valuable, the kind of discovery that could make an academic's entire career. Now, Krier would get all the glory. And by cutting Shipey out of the final stages, the ones that mattered, Krier had doomed the man to eternal obscurity.

"But Dr. Shipey was fired," Zell said, mirroring Quistis' thoughts. "And he's in jail."

"He's..._what?_" The blood drained from the two Estharan's faces, leaving them ghostly pale in the ambient light of the moon.

"In jail," Zell repeated.

"Did you know about this?" Nik roared, turning toward Crecentia who had taken a step away from them.

"He attacked President Krier," she said, holding up her hands. "And it doesn't make any difference anyway. We're still here. And there wasn't anything there. He was wrong."

"We wouldn't even _be_ here if we had any idea that Dr. Shipey wasn't in charge! So who is our leader now? Krier?"

"We're still working off Dr. Shipey's research anyway. And besides, it doesn't matter. He was wrong!" Crecentia got right up in Nik's face. She was smaller, but still looked like she could take him in a fight. "Plus, look where it got us! We're stranded in the middle of Trabia!"

As much as Quistis wanted to hear the argument play itself out, she felt compelled to interrupt before a fist fight broke out. Save the Queen sailed over their heads and split the air like a bolt of lightning. All three dropped for cover, their hands over their heads, and Reiss even let out a little yelp. Quistis knew these people. She'd studied their backgrounds and knew that even with the military training Crecentia and Duran had received, they were no match for one SeeD, let alone two. With Garden inexplicably gone and tensions rising, the time for some solid answers was at hand.

Quistis plastered on her best, practiced instructor guise as she stepped up to face them.

"Enough! You're right, Crecentia, we're stuck here. If Garden was within even fifteen miles, we'd be able to see the lights. So, it's time you three were straight with us."

"Yeah!" Zell dropped into an antsy, fighting stance.

"What were you expecting to find in the crater."

"Well..." Reiss began, earning him a hostile glance from Crecentia. Apparently, Quistis and Zell were more intimidating than the girl because he continued, "You know the legend of Vascaroon?"

"Vaguely," Quistis shrugged.

Zell nodded. "Hyne created the world and people. Then later, to cut the population, Hyne started abducting and killing children. So, under King Zebalga the people rose up. To pacify them, Hyne cut his body in two and told them it would give them magical powers. But Vascaroon revealed to Zebalga that the body was a ruse and really just Hyne's cast off skin. Hyne vanished and under Zebalga the Centra Empire was formed."

"Right. A few years ago, Dr. Shipey discovered some Ancient Centran texts. They're fragmented and copies of copies. But, from what he's been able to put together so far, they point to the Trabian crater -- this crater -- as the location of Hyne's Tomb. Supposedly, it's here that King Zebalga buried the half body of Hyne. That's what we're looking for."

Quistis and Zell were silent for a long moment. Finally, Zell said, "But that's just a legend. It's not true."

Reiss crossed his arms. "Obviously."

On the ground, Duran began to pitch and groan again. His foot was in a bad way, completely crushed. Quistis hadn't been worried before -- she'd seen Dr. Kadowaki accomplish some amazing things when over-eager cadets stumbled or were dragged into her infirmary -- but now they were stranded. It would be hours before he got any help for the pain. She sighed and looked off to the east where Trabia Garden was buzzing a lime green color. Not as welcoming as the cool blue of Balamb, but all things considered a better alternative than the dense forests or the empty, gasping plains.

"We'll have to hike to Trabia Garden," she announced. "They'll let us in, and we can find out from there was has happened. Zell, you're going to have to carry Duran. Unless you've got more float spells, because I don't have any."

Duran cried out when Zell hefted him up off the ground, then passed into listlessness once again. Against her better judgment, Quistis cast a cure spell on him and watched as some of the color flooded back into his face.

After a long day's work in the summer heat of the crater, the midnight hike to Trabia Garden was grueling. They trudged along, downcast by exhaustion and disappointment, and did their best to avoid any encounters with the local wildlife, though Quistis ended up fighting eight bite bugs, four mesmerize, and one gayla. By the time they reached the Garden's high, concrete gates, the sky was growing light and they were stumbling and stupid. The girl at the gate looked at them long and hard, her mouth gaping open in a wide "O" of surprise.

"Quistis Trepe? And...Zell Dincht? Why aren't you...why are you here?"

"We need to see the headmaster immediately. And the doctor," Quistis explained, sounding harsher than she had intended. They had run out of water over two hours ago. Her throat was dry and rough.

Five minutes later, Duran was vanishing into the doors of the infirmary with the other three members of the team following close behind, and Quistis an Zell were sitting side by side on Headmaster Neko's couch, trying to explain the circumstances that had brought them to his Garden's front door at five in the morning.

"Balamb Garden just left you?" he asked.

"Yes. Have you received any word from them? Was there some kind of emergency?" Quistis asked.

"No. We haven't heard anything. It's strange that they would leave you behind. I'll try to contact them, see what I can find out. In the mean time, the two of you should get some rest. I'm sure our doctor has already freed up cots for you in the infirmary." He smiled kindly at them. Bud Neko was an old friend of Cid's. Once upon a time, he'd owned every junk shop in Galbadia. He'd personally funded half the cost of Trabia Garden's construction. He didn't look like the sort of man who possessed great wealth or power sitting across from them in a pair of loafers, navy blue sweat pants, and a gray Jones' Junk Shop t-shirt.

"You'll notify us as soon as you contact them?" Quistis asked.

"Absolutely." He had them up and was ushering them out of his office. "Leave it to me. Now go sleep."

Somehow, she and Zell found their way back down to the infirmary and, after drinking two glasses of water each, they both fell asleep on two narrow cots. Quistis felt dizzy as the heady dark of sleep overwhelmed her and was taken into old dreams of the ancient sorceress Hyne crawling out of the past to snatch her from her bed. The imagery she had cultivated since childhood was enhanced by memories of the tomb, given a home in the miniature Centran landscape and the tiny skulls they had found there.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep when Headmaster Neko gently woke her with a solid hand on her shoulder. Her eyes felt crusty and heavy when she rolled over and looked up at him.

"You've talked to Garden?" she asked.

"No. We couldn't get a hold of them. But we contacted someone else who would like to speak to you." He pushed a warm, wireless telephone receiver into her hand and smiled encouragingly.

Quistis put it up to her ear. "Hello?"

"Quistis? I just talked to Headmaster Neko. Are you and Zell alright?" Laguna's loud voice echoed through her head.

"Of course. We're fine."

"He told me what happened." Laguna didn't sound pleased. "President Krier wasn't exactly truthful with me about...well...everything."

"It may sound bad, but the tomb they discovered is really quite remarkable." She wanted to soften the blow for him. "Hyne's body wasn't there, but the place is full of pottery and art. It's beautiful."

Laguna was silent for a long moment. It made Quistis uncomfortable. She couldn't recall a time he'd ever been at a loss for words, and he had a habit of vocalizing nearly every thought that crossed his mind. She was blushing and turning her face away from Headmaster Neko by the time he replied. "I'd like you to come to Esthar. I'm going to send someone to get you."

"I have to get back to Garden."

"I want you to come here first. You, Zell, and the two scientists...Reiss and Nik." He was insistent.

"What about the Galbadians?"

"Headmaster Neko will keep an eye on them."

"Okay."

"Your flight should be there in...like...an hour. Come straight to the Presidential Palace when you get here."

"Okay."

"I'll see you when you get here."

Zell was still asleep with his mouth hanging open and the fingers on his right hand twitching when she hung up and handed the phone back to Headmaster Neko. She gave him an apologetic look, then said, "You can probably expect a nasty phone call from the Galbadians soon."

"Laguna and I have already spoken," he assured her. "They can piss and whine all they want, it won't get them anywhere." Feelings were still hard on the part of the Trabians who had clear memories of the missile attack they'd suffered during the course of the war two years before. "We'll keep a close eye on them until this is all sorted out."

Quistis' head was still spinning an hour later when a red dragon ship blew to a blustery landing in front of Trabia Garden, the name "Heimdall" printed in blocky, white letters on its side. Nik and Reiss were boarded first, leaving Quistis and Zell to sit behind them. For the entire forty five minute flight to Esthar, Zell snoozed on Quistis' shoulder, leaving a sticky deposit of saliva there when he finally picked his head up.

"Ugh. God. I need my sleep," he groaned and stumbled out into Esthar Airstation.

The ride through the tubes to the Presidential Palace cheered Zell up significantly. Quistis spent most of the ride staring at the spittle on her shoulder, wanting to brush it off and also not wanting to touch it. Her pockets were devoid of tissues. The best alternative she could find was an old gum wrapper -- she couldn't even remember the last time she'd chewed a stick of gum. The thought made her stomach rumble.

Laguna showed more foresight than usual. When they arrived at the Presidential Palace, the catering staff was putting the finishing touches on a steaming, mouth watering lunch. Zell actually dropped to his knees and released a strangled, animalistic cry when he noticed the plate of hot dogs at the end of the table. He pulled up a chair and sat down in front of the plate, claiming the entire thing for himself. Nik and Reiss remained in the doorway, their hands clasped in front of them, looking ashamed.

"Afternoon, Quistis. Zell." Laguna strode into the room like nothing was the slightest bit awry. "Go ahead and eat. We'll be here for a while."

"Yes! I have zome very important things to zay!"

Quistis collapsed into her chair as Dr. Odine hobbled into the room, looking just as ridiculous as the last time she'd seen him. His dark hair was collected on top of his head in a tiny, impeccably constructed knot that pulled his face tight over the bones of his skull. And his collar -- the man must own an immense closet full, Quistis thought -- was a megalithic, gauzy monstrosity that could probably catch a fair breeze if turned properly. He had to fold his feet underneath him in his chair to appear a normal height at the table. Reiss and Nik quickly sat themselves on either side of the eccentric scientist.

"I can't possibly imagine..." What in the world did Dr. Odine have to do with any of this? His involvement didn't generate any greater confidence in Quistis' mind. His top concerns in life were power and influence, and he did whatever was necessary to get both.

"He came to me," Laguna explained off-hand. "He heard what happened. Somehow."

"Baahh! I know everything!"

"He insisted, he needed to speak with you because --"

"I vill tell them!" Odine interrupted. "But first, tell me exactly...vat did you see in ze crater?"

"Nothing," Reiss replied. "We opened the final chamber in the tomb, but it was empty."

"Completely?"

"Yes. Completely. No pottery, no rocks. Not even writing on the walls. Just empty."

"Vat about ze rest of ze tomb?" Odine demanded.

"Just what we expected," Nik said. "Stairway, antechamber, microcosm, and burial chamber."

"And nothing interesting zere?" Odine popped a grape into his mouth and chewed speculatively on it when Reiss shook his head.

A chunk of hotdog and bun fell out of Zell's mouth as he gaped at them. "What? Nothing interesting? Are you serious? There was writing and paintings all over the walls. There was a whole city down there. There were bodies!"

Odine waved a hand. "Trivial! Though...ve may need our Dr. Shipey to examine it."

"We heard that he's been arrested."

"Oh! Yes! He attacked ze Prezident, you know."

Quistis shook her head to clear out the hazy cobwebs the entire conversation was spinning there and slammed a fist down against the table top.

"Hold on. Back up. What's going on here? You know Dr. Shipey?"

Laguna opened his mouth to speak, but Dr. Odine cut him off again.

"Yes! Let me explain! No interrupting!" Odine pushed a plate of finger sandwiches in front of Laguna before he continued. "Dr. Shipey, you know, discovered some very interesting tablets here in Esthar. Zey are very old. Copies of a history written for King Zebalga II in Ancient Centra."

"Wow. That's old," Zell whistled.

"No interrupting! Ze tablets record ze legend of Hyne from ze viewpoint of Vascaroon himself. Ze scribe, Jorgan E'Lizul, recorded his conversations with ze man mere hours before hiz death. Zese tablets tell a very different legend zan has ever been recoded before. Ve believe zat ze sorceress Ultimecia knew zis legend and --"

"Ultimecia?" This time, Quistis interrupted. "What's this have to do with her?"

"Gragh! You don't pay attention!"

"The story according to the tablets, says that Hyne didn't just shed a hollow skin that he gave to the ancient Centrans," Reiss announced with an apologetic look to Dr. Odine. The scientist seemed satisfied to let the young man continue -- apparently, he'd already had enough of explaining himself. "King Zebalga and the revolt had no effect. Vascaroon saved them. With the help of the Gods, he cut Hyne in two. One half of the body remained corporeal, while the other dissipated into nothing. They buried the body in a tomb in Trabia, where Hyne had been defeated. Not long after, the first sorceresses began to appear. The scribe, like Dr. Odine said, claims to have interviewed Vascaroon personally. And in the texts, Vascaroon claims that the sorceresses make up the non-corporeal fragments of Hyne...that if they ever all come together again, Hyne may return."

"So...why search for the body?" Quistis asked.

"The texts say that key to defeating Hyne is in the tomb."

Quistis narrowed her eyes and thought over what Reiss and Odine had said for a moment. "And, you think that was Ultimecia's aim? To bring back Hyne?"

"Yes! Yes!" Odine couldn't keep silent any longer. "By compressing time, to collect all the fragments of sorceress power into herself, she would resurrect Hyne."

"We stopped her though," Zell said. "So, why worry? She's dead."

"Ah, zere you see. Ze plan did not go quite to...er...plan, but it vas successful."

Odine looked at Quistis meaningfully, boring into her with his hardy, beady eyes.

"Zere is only one sorceress."

"Rinoa! You think _Rinoa _is Hyne resurrected?" Quistis' spoon clattered onto her plate. "You've got to be kidding me. It's just a legend...an old tablet. Don't you think one of us might have noticed something by now?"

"It iz not complete," Odine replied. "Zere is the body, and ze magic."

"Body and magic?"

"We're...not really sure yet how it would work," Reiss admitted. "Dr. Shipey thinks that Hyne was sort of...dispersed. And getting all the sorceress powers into one person would only be the first step. Then they'd have to reunite with the body and suck up all the world's magic for Hyne to return in force."

"Well, it doesn't matter. It's crazy anyway." Quistis turned to Laguna, hoping for his agreement. But he was pale and his mouth was drawn tight with concern. "There wasn't anything in the tomb. No body. No secret weapon. And Rinoa is definitely _not_ Hyne."

"Yeah. Just call Garden. They'll tell you," Zell nodded. "There's no way."

"We've been trying to call Garden," Laguna replied. "All morning."

"They did leave us behind in Trabia..." Zell mused. "You don't think...Quisty?"

"Just because its written on an ancient tablet, that doesn't mean it's true, Zell," she replied.

"Your Garden has abandoned you," Odine said, aiming squarely for a wound he had to know was still fresh. "Ve must assume zat Hyne has taken control of your friend."

"Even if that was the case, what could we do about it? The tomb was empty, like they said."

As Odine thought this question over, Quistis wondered how he'd come to be involved at all. Naturally, anything of interest that happened in Esthar he had his eyes on. Odine's fingers were in so many jars, she wondered how he didn't get cramps trying to juggle it all. A legend about sorceresses, his favorite topic, would be right up his alley. Odine had made a career out of studying the workings of magic, guardian forces, and sorceress power. She'd read most of his books. And, as much as she hated to admit it, there was no one more qualified to talk about Hyne than he was. Suddenly, the unusual union between Esthar and Galbadia made sense. It wasn't a project working between Krier and Laguna -- at least, not initially -- but one between Shipey and Odine.

"I believe," Odine announced, after much contemplation, "zat ve may have reached some hasty conclusions."

"Obviously."

"Ve must assume that your friend has taken over Balamb Garden. And zat she is becoming Hyne." Quistis didn't follow that line of reasoning, but nodded anyway. "More research is needed! Ve must break Dr. Shipey out of jail!"

"You want us to break Dr. Shipey out of a high security Galbadian prison so that you can do more research on a legend written on stone blocks?" Quistis asked.

"More zan zat! Have you never vondered why sorceresses choose knights, Miz Trepe?" Odine asked. "I have speculated for years. Not all do, you know. Ultimecia made finding a knight her first step. To protect her while she transformed into Hyne."

"Rinoa was acting pretty weird back at Garden," Zell said, evidently spooked by the story. "Remember? She wouldn't leave Squall's side. Got all strange."

Quistis glanced at Laguna, who still hadn't said anything about whether he believed what Dr. Odine was saying or not. She reached out and touched his arm, pleading him to stay on the side of sanity with him. "Laguna. Just loan us a ship. We'll fly back to Garden."

He shook his head. "When we couldn't contact Squall, I did send a ship. They could see Garden sailing southwest from Trabia but couldn't approach. It seems the field from the crater..." He shook his head. "The instruments onboard our ships failed for a five mile radius all around Balamb Garden. And they aren't answering hails."

"But none of that has anything to do with Rinoa. Xu answers incoming calls."

Laguna shrugged. "Then maybe they're not getting them."

Quistis felt dizzy. She gripped the side of the table and breathed through her mouth. Was it possible? In her life, she'd seen her fair share of the impossible including a sorceress from the future and time compression. Hyne wasn't a big leap beyond what she already knew to be true. But still...Rinoa? The idea that the interference from the crater had somehow transferred to Garden, making it unapproachable, that they had abandoned their biggest mission in two years, and that they had abandoned Quistis and Zell in the wilderness...it made her consider the possibility.

She looked across the table at Odine who, in spite of his clothing and manner, was utterly serious. Faint bells were ringing in her head, chords struck against theories she'd read in his books. Zell looked horrified.

"I will believe," she announced, "that Garden has fallen to an enemy. Their behavior is strange enough to warrant that assumption. But I don't believe Rinoa has become possessed, or that it has anything to do with this legend."

For the first time, Laguna grunted and nodded his agreement.

"Zell and I will approach Garden and attempt to ascertain what has occurred."

"Whoa, Quistis," Zell shook his head. "If something happened...if someone _ invaded_ Garden...it's gonna take more than the two of us."

Quistis glanced at Dr. Odine, whose brow was wrinkled as he glared at her. Dr. Shipey's research was flawed. There was nothing in the tomb, Quistis had seen so herself. She felt confident shrugging off his wild theory. More likely, the expedition provided a good opportunity for President Krier and the Galbadians to make a strike against the unsuspecting Balamb Garden. That could explain, she figured, why Shipey had been excused from the project at the last minute. Sure now, she clasped her hands and turned to Zell.

"I have an idea where we might find some assistance."

0 0 0

"This is a bad idea."

"No it's not."

Quistis had a blue rain jacket on and the hood tightened around her ears. She could barely hear Zell over the steady drum of rain echoing in her head. She turned away from him and shoved her hands into her pockets. Maybe it was a bad idea. It had leapt into her head when Dr. Odine had mentioned knights, and at the time it was preferable to becoming international criminals. Now, in Dollet where the overcast sky hadn't cleared in two days, the whole plan was beginning to seem a little less brilliant.

"I don't think he's here."

"I know he is. The ship he was on in Balamb was a Dollet ship."

"But those ships go out to sea for weeks at a time. They might not be back here for a month."

Quistis sighed. "If we don't keep looking, we'll never find him."

"I don't _want_ to find him"

"Fine. I'll look for him. You look for Raijin and Fujin. If he's been around here, they must be, too."

"Fine."

Zell shoved a red baseball cap on his head and walked off. He was a little perturbed with this whole idea. But Quistis couldn't think of any other way. Galbadia Garden was certainly compromised, and Trabia Garden was full of cadets. Try as she might, she couldn't think of anyone other than the once upon a time Disciplinary Committee who had the training to help them regain control of Garden.

Quistis walked in the opposite direction. She and Zell were beginning to grate on each other's nerves, and the constant rain wasn't helping. Her already damp tennis shoes sloshed through puddles as she ducked between natives sporting umbrellas and tried to avoid the sheets of water cascading off buildings with no gutters. One thick, heavy drop smacked into the top of her head as she passed under a street light.

Spotting the pub, she ducked inside.

The bartender looked up when she walked in. A few patrons were standing around, playing pool and Triple Triad with mugs of beer in their hands.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"I...ah...something warm, please."

"Rainy day special," he winked.

Of all the places in Dollet, Quistis figured the pub was the most likely to be a frequent haunt of her quarry. And, aside from that, she was tired of wandering around in the rain. She plopped down on a stool near the back of the bar and pulled her hood back off her head. Minutes later, the bartender put a warm mug down in front of her. She didn't know what it was, and she didn't ask. Halfway through her drink, one of the unfortunate souls from the pool tables challenged her to a game of cards. She was finishing off a second drink and beating him for the sixth time when the door swung open, ringing a little bell above it.

There he was. _Seifer Almasy_.

He didn't notice her and sat down at the other end of the bar.

His blonde hair was loose and messy, bleached a harder blonde by hours in the sun. He wore a green sweater knitted from big, coarse thread with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and a pair of worn, ratty blue jeans. Clearly Seifer. But at the same time...different.

"Another game?" her partner asked.

"Huh? Uh...no thanks."

"What? Come on. That's not fair. You can't just cut and run." He'd lost an iron giant card to her in the first round that he'd been attempting to win back to no avail.

"Here. Take your card. I don't care." She tossed it to him. "I've got more."

He snatched the card away and left in a flurry, leaving Quistis with the task at hand. She stared across the pub at Seifer. He was here, only a few feet away...but how to approach him? _Oh! Hi, Seifer. Say, you'll never believe what's happened..._

She watched him order a drink and pick up a newspaper. He produced a ballpoint pen from one of his pockets and began scribbling across the newspaper page until his drink came, his lips pursed and his brow knit with concentration. Everyone else in the pub gave him a comfortable cushion of space, and aside from the bartender he didn't speak to anyone. Still so popular after so many years. She guessed she couldn't have expected him to change at all, even if the scruffy beard made him look so much older, so much more adult.

Oh. Just do it!

Her feet were moving her across the pub before she knew it, and all too soon she found herself standing beside the barstool next to Seifer's. He didn't turn to look at her. Didn't acknowledge her presence. Although, she could see over his shoulder that he was working on a crossword puzzle.

"You...uh...want to play a game of Triple Triad?" she asked, sliding onto the stool.

Slowly, he turned to look at her.

"No," he replied in a low rumble. Silently, he went back to his puzzle.

_Doesn't he recognize me?_ Quistis' heart ached to think that he'd actually forgotten her.

"Seifer. It's Quistis." Her fingers brushed his arm where it was laying bare against the bar.

"Damnit. I know who you are." The angry glare he pinned her with next was more familiar.

"Aren't you wondering why I'm here?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"No."

Did he always have to be so difficult? She'd forgotten how stubborn and irritating he could be. This was hard enough as it was without him being...himself.

"Okay, listen, I don't know how else to say this, so I'm just going to come out and do it. I need your help."

He leaned against the bar a little and smiled. "Well, Instructor, I don't know how else to say this so...kiss my ass."

Zell was right. This is a bad idea.


	7. A Different Kind of Hero

A/N: Alpha2Omega mentioned in a review how this fic seems to be moving a lot faster than its previous incarnation, "Dreams of Esdraelon." For those of you who've been with this story line since then, it _is_ moving considerably faster...it's not just your imagination. In fact, I managed to cut around 25,000 words by stream lining the plot and planning better. Goes to show, I suppose, how bloated and top heavy first drafts tend to be. Also, many heartfelt thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. :-)

Chapter 6: A Different Kind of Hero

The seagulls outside were screaming. Not just the ordinary babble and chatter, but really _screaming_. They sat perched along Garden's fin, crowded together so that they were wing to wing, and were circling overhead as if caught in some whirling gyre. Rinoa watched them through the window in the cafeteria as the blinding white mass of birds quivered and trembled under the bright afternoon sunlight. She blindly moved her fork to her mouth and swallowed.

Those birds. They were so strange. And she couldn't look away.

"Hey. What's up?" Irvine sat down across from her and pushed his cowboy hat back on his head to peer out the window with her. "You should check them out from the Quad. The racket down there's incredible."

"I've never seen so many in one place before," Rinoa replied and peeled her eyes away from the site to look at her friend across the table.

"Selphie thinks they're nesting or something. Says she read somewhere that gulls gather like this to nest."

Rinoa smiled at the thought. Nesting was a soft, pleasant idea that hadn't occurred to her and brought to mind tender fragility -- baby birds and egg shells. She welcomed those images in and was appreciative of the way they banished the darker symbolism the screeching and flapping drudged up: time compression, carrion, and death.

Irvine smiled back.

"You seem to be feeling better. Squall was really worried about you for a while there."

"Hm? Oh. I think I had a touch of the flu or something. But I'm feeling a little better now." Still a little out of body and disconnected, but better.

"So, you think you guys'll be able to take Angelo back soon? Selphie loves babysitting her, but I think she's eager to get back to you."

Rinoa was surprised. "You have Angelo?"

She hadn't even noticed the dog was gone. And now, realizing that she hadn't seen Angelo in days, guilt flushed her face.

"Squall asked me to take her the other night," Irvine shrugged. "It's no problem. It's just, you know...taking her out at night to go to the bathroom, and dog food, and accidents, and squeaky toys."

"What night was that?" She couldn't quite remember the last time she'd seen Angelo.

"The last night in Trabia. Which reminds me...have you seen Quistis or Zell around? I've been looking for them."

Rinoa shook her head.

"I've tried going by their dorms, but they're never there. Haven't seen Zell at breakfast, lunch, or dinner for a couple days now. I can go a week sometimes without seeing Quistis, but Zell's usually hard to _avoid_. And I can't believe he's not eating. They were okay when they got back from the crater, weren't they?" Irvine's delicate features twisted with concern. "I'm getting sorta worried about them."

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I haven't seen them."

He paused and stared at her, his fingers tapping against the table top. "I thought they came by your room that night."

"What night?" Something in Rinoa's stomach fluttered. She spooned down another helping of her lunch to try and weigh the feeling down. Maybe, she figured, she wasn't quite over that flu yet. She couldn't seem to get rid of this feeling that her body was doing something without her permission.

"The night they came back from the crater. Squall had _just _talked to them when I came by your room."

Rinoa shrugged. "I guess they only talked to Squall. I went to bed early." And woke at some point from a nightmare, she recalled, though the rest was fuzzy.

"Oh." Irvine was still tapping the table with his fingers. "Well, I guess if you see them let me know, okay? And you can come get Angelo from my room anytime."

"Could you take her for just a few more days?" Rinoa heard the request come out of her mouth, but hadn't been aware that she was going to say it. Her fingers tightened around her spoon in surprise.

Irvine frowned at her. "You know...if you just don't want her anymore or something..." His voice trailed off, then he muttered, "Yeah. I guess so."

"Uh...thanks." Rinoa wasn't sure why she'd asked, but now a rush of relief flooded her muscles. She hadn't even noticed Angelo's absence. What difference should it make? But some part of her was glad to have the burden gone. Maybe she didn't want the responsibility of a pet anymore. Though taking care of Angelo had never bothered her in the past. Confused, she put down her spoon and pushed her chair out from the table.

"I think I'm going to go lie down for a while."

She knew without looking back that Irvine watched her leave with a mix of irritation and puzzlement. She could feel his gaze on her guilty back.

_What's wrong with you?_ Her mind turned over on itself. Whatever this bug was that had a grip on her, it was a doozy. By the time she got back to her room and closed the door behind her, she was positive that her flu was staging a comeback. Sweat was beading up on her forehead, steaming off her pink flushed skin. And that odd feeling inside, like something was rolling over or stretching out to seize her. Was it nausea? Or panic? She'd heard things about panic attacks, but she'd never had one and couldn't be sure.

She fell down across the bed, burying her face in the pillow to breathe Squall's comforting scent. He soothed her, even by traces, stifling the nausea that had threatened to overwhelm her and calming the odd terror that had rumbled to life like a volcano in her heart. She was feeling peaceful again when, moments later, a loud bang and a squawk brought her face up from the pillow to see a bloody smear and a smattering of downy white feathers plastered to the window above her bed.

0 0 0

"Won't you at least hear me out?"

"No."

A sigh. "Why not?"

"No means no, Instructor," he replied baldly and turned away, back to the newspaper crossword spread open across the bar. "Besides, why should I?" Quistis watched with irritation as Seifer scribbled a word into one of the lines of boxes.

"Don't you think that I wouldn't _be_ here, talking to _you_, if it weren't really important?"

"Important to you, or important to me?"

"To the both of us, I'd hope. If you've got any common decency in you at all--"

"Haven't lost any of that charm, eh, Instructor?" he interrupted. "No '_Hello, Seifer. How are you? How've you been?'_ Better to just launch right into the insults. That'll convince me. Did they teach you that in SeeD school?"

She couldn't help replying, "Guess you wouldn't know."

He cracked a smile and scratched another word onto his crossword. Quistis watched him write, remembering his penmanship and the memory dredging up others from his time as her student. Squall had handwriting that was tiny and precise, painstaking and detailed as if he labored over his paper in an attempt to make it appear perfectly neat and type-set. Seifer's was the opposite -- large, bold, sloppy, and cocky. His letters were cramped in the tiny boxes the crossword afforded. Just seeing his pen moving across paper brought up an old familiarity that she didn't feel looking at his much changed countenance. And it gave her confidence.

"Well then...how _have_ you been?" she offered.

"Peachy."

"You're working on a fishing boat? I saw you in Balamb."

"Yeah. I know you saw me in Balamb. We looked right at each other." His tone clearly said it, even if he didn't -- _moron_. "Were you on a date or something? Or do you have some sort of hobo you volunteer to go see once a week for extra credit?"

"Date," she confirmed. "Was that enough small talk?"

He shrugged and took a drink from the glass the bartender brought him.

"So, you'll listen to what I've got to say then?"

"I'm not listening to what you're saying now. Just waiting for my drink. And now that I've got it..." He took another large swallow. "I'll be seeing you." Quistis had to lean away from him to avoid getting hit in the face as he waved her away like a buzzing fly.

"So even now, you don't care about anyone but yourself?" she hissed.

"What's that supposed to mean? _Even now?_ You're the one who came looking for me. I'm not being insensitive. I'm just saying no. Maybe you didn't hear it that last time." He folded up his paper and shoved his pen into the front pocket of his worn blue jeans. Tossing a few gil down on the bar, he said to her, "That's for the drink. Not a donation to your little cause," and walked out the door.

Undaunted, Quistis wasn't far behind, garnering herself a few curious whispers from the afternoon pub patrons and she jogged after him. She caught him out by the street, waiting in the rain for a car to pass so that he could cross, and grabbed the damp sleeve of his sweater. Without bothering to look, he pulled his arm out of her grasp and elbowed her away.

"Come on, Seifer. I'm serious." She continued to follow him across the street. My God. How could he just ignore her like this? It was infuriating. It reminded her of Squall.

"So am I. I'm not interested. So leave me alone."

"I can't."

This was the only plan she had. Inexplicably cut off from Garden, unsure whether she could take refuge in Galbadia, and concerned about the friends who had abandoned her, she couldn't think of anything else to do. Her training said "attack."

Seifer scowled at her and reached out with both hands to pull the hood of her raincoat up over her head. It drew tight around her ears and chin as he pulled the twin strings dangling down her front. Looking up at him, she was still struck by how different he looked in the ratty, understated civilian clothing, wooly haired and bearded. Maybe he wasn't even _able_ to help her anymore, she thought. What if he was that out of practice? Was that why he was refusing even to hear her out?

"Why don't you just go back to Balamb," he suggested. "Get Squall to help you, or whatever. He always liked saving damsels in distress. Not really my department. I've stayed away from you guys. You can at least stay away from me."

"There isn't anyone in Balamb to go back to," she explained. "That's why I'm here. Someone seized control of Garden in Trabia."

"It wasn't me," he snapped.

"I didn't say it was."

"Why else would you be here?"

"I already told you. I need your _help_. I need you to help me attack and regain control of Garden."

His green eyes narrowed and she saw his pupils dilate.

"You've done it before. During the war, you launched a full scale assault on Balamb Garden. A good one," she continued, remembering how close they had all come at that moment to disaster with men rappelling through classroom windows and Rinoa nearly killed in the Quad.

Seifer crossed his arms. "That was with all of Galbadia Garden. You think we can do it just you and me?"

"No. Zell's here, too."

"Fuck," Seifer let out a snort as he laughed. "_Chicken Wuss, too_? You're already doomed to failure."

"And Raijin and Fujin." She elected to ignore his comment. "Zell's looking for them now."

For a titillating moment, he thought the proposal over. She knew the chance to get back into mercenary work had to be appealing. Seifer was born to kill. His docile life on board a fishing schooner couldn't be satisfying, not in the primal way he sought out life's baser pleasures. As he searched her face, she couldn't make out what he was thinking.

Finally, he smiled a little and said, "Tempting, Instructor. But I don't think so. Give the Chicken Wuss my regards. I'll send him a card when his balls drop or something."

"You're just going to pass up this opportunity?" He was walking again and she was following, keeping him in the narrow field of vision that the hood of her blue rain coat provided. She wasn't paying attention to where he was headed, didn't have time to mark their progress through the city.

"Stop following me," he barked over one shoulder.

"You know I can't do that."

He decided to ignore her and walked for a two blocks without so much as breathing in her direction before she spotted his green eyes darting a glance behind to see if his plan had worked. At a busy intersection, he had to stop, and she came up right beside him. Though the chase was beginning to wear on her, she didn't want him to know. Persistence was the way to deal with Seifer. He only responded to strength, the law of the jungle. _Don't take it personally_, she told herself. _It's just Seifer._ Still, the cold shoulder treatment was one tactic that had a way of getting under her skin, and she was feeling less than kind as she crossed her arms and stepped in front of him.

"I don't even know if you _deserve_ it," she said. "But you could redeem yourself here, Seifer. Think about that."

"Redeem myself? For what?"

Her mouth fell open. "For what? Are you serious?"

His only response was a blank stare.

"The war! You know...trying to end the world."

"The world's still here."

"Attacking Balamb Garden."

"Just a minute ago you were complimenting me on a job well done. What's your deal?"

Quistis groaned. "Torturing Squall!"

"I'm sure Squall's fine. Was looking real good last I saw him."

For once, Quistis didn't know what to think. Did he really feel no guilt? No remorse? She remembered seeing him toward the end of the war, a haggard and worn creature who was difficult to reconcile with the man standing in front of her now. How could he have come out of time compression so unscathed? How could he still be so sure of himself? Puzzled, she let her gaze shift down from his face to his large-knit sweater, his jeans, and his shoes. Not quite the pressed and perfect military man of two years prior.

"You're saying your happy with how you live now?" she asked. "Working on some fishing boat for weeks at a time. Living in squalor?"

Seifer's face twisted into an ugly snarl and he jabbed a finger hard against her breast bone. "I'm not the one who's homeless. _You_ are. Besides, I don't live in squalor."

"Oh? Where do you live?"

"In a house."

"Alone?"

"With Raijin and Fujin."

"Cramped quarters? Dark? Sort of dirty and smells bad?"

"No. Big, beautiful, and expensive. You really know how to woo a man, Instructor. That date must've gone real well for you. Is that why you're here? Everybody left you? Can't imagine why. You're so damn pleasant."

When the light changed and the street sign flashed to "walk," Quistis made to cross the street along side him, but Seifer turned and gave her a hard shove back onto the sidewalk.

"Listen. It's raining like a god damned iron giant pissing on a flat rock out here, so I'm only going to repeat this one more time. I don't do favors. I don't help people. And I'd rather eat shit than work with you and Chicken Wuss. So turn around, go back to Balamb, and leave me alone."

Quistis folded her arms across her chest and watched him go, wondering if Zell was sharing her abysmal luck.

0 0 0

Zell was leaning against the table, salivating like a mad dog, his eyes fixed on the popping, sizzling forms of three plump sausages peeking over the rim of a cast iron skillet. They were so beautiful lying there, beaded with moisture, bubbling and succulent. In front of the pan danced a behemoth of a man, waving a greasy spatula and whistling. He seemed out of place in the white kitchen but perfectly at home hanging over the glowing coil the frying pan rested on.

"HUNGRY?"

"Yes." He hissed it.

"I've spiced it up a bit, ya know? Not exactly what Garden serves, but Fu likes it."

"TASTY!"

"Yesss..."

Fujin sat next to him, a text book open on the table before her and a spiral-bound notebook propped on top of it. She was doing math, something that looked suspiciously like a foreign language to Zell with all the odd symbols, arrows, and tic marks flowing out the end of her pencil like she was some sort of alien. "CALCULUS," she'd told him, a home course she was taking in her spare time.

"Oregano?" Raijin asked.

"Orega...huh?"

Raijin shrugged and sprinkled something green into the pan.

Zell had spent all of five minutes searching Dollet before a restaurant had caught his eye and his stomach rumbled. He hadn't had good food since they'd left Esthar -- Quistis insisted on doing things like buying bread and sliced turkey to make sandwiches with rather than buy pre-made meals. _We need to save our money_, she'd said. _We don't know how long we'll be away from Garden. _In her defense, the money was hers to begin with. Zell had gone off into the crater days ago without a single gil in his pocket or his SeeD ID card. Poor as he was, he didn't have anything in mind as he wandered toward the restaurant other than indulging in the sweet smells issuing forth from their front door.

But then Raijin had walked out, dressed in black pleated pants and a crisp white shirt (a chef, who knew?) and invited Zell home to eat like a lost puppy.

Ripping his eyes from the pan of hotdogs, Zell glanced around the kitchen and dining room they were seated in. The house was nicely furnished, impeccably kept (probably by Fujin), and built in the traditional Dollet style, painted on the outside with browns and whites with faux shutters and plump window boxes bursting with budding raspberry vines and purple four-o-clock flowers. Inside all was white, cream, and blue.

"How do you guys afford this place?" Zell asked.

"SEIFER."

"What'd he kill somebody for it or something?"

"He's a fisherman, ya know?" Raijin shrugged. "Makin' lots of money. And me and Fu do alright, too."

Raijin did seem to possess a real talent with food. The plate he set down in front of Zell was covered by two spicy hot dogs, pasta salad mixed with vegetables, and a square of brown rice that smelled of beef and garlic. After two solid days of cold turkey sandwiches, it was a feast, and Zell had to restrain himself from just smashing his face into the whole lot.

"So..." he drawled around a mouthful. "Seifer's paying for all this?"

"SOME."

"Where is he? Quisty and me are lookin' for him."

"He's not home much. Usually out on the boat, ya know? Not sure where he's at right now."

For the moment, Zell was feeling rather friendly toward the two who were feeding him. He swallowed and asked, "Well, you two interested in helpin' us out?"

"I've still got my staff, ya know!" Raijin shot up out of his chair like he'd sat on something sharp.

"QUIET."

Scolded, the large man sunk back down.

"Oh. I see. Gotta ask permission?" Zell asked around another mouthful of food, causing Fujin to frown at him.

"MISSION?" she asked as she sat her pencil down and crossed her arms.

"Yup. Somebody commandeered Balamb Garden in Trabia. We're gonna intercept it on the way back to Balamb and retake control. Quisty figures you guys and Seifer have got experience, and we need help."

Raijin's eyes were wide, his hands gripping the edge of the table.

"Yo, Fu. I think we should do it, ya know? I got vacation time coming, and Seifer's not leaving again for a couple weeks."

"QUIET," Fujin rumbled.

By now, Zell was scraping his plate clean and his stomach was hanging happily between his knees.

"Who ya think took over Garden?" Raijin asked, flinching away from his companion.

"We don't know. Dr. Odine's got this wild theory...but we think it was probably the Galbadians. As usual. We were investigating the crater out in Trabia. And all of Garden just sorta flew away. No one's been able to get in contact with them since."

"STRANGE."

The front door flew open before Zell could respond.

"That smells good. I'm fucking hungry!" Seifer's voice carried through the living room and into the dining room where they were all seated. Only seconds later, he came striding in, wet and worn. When he spotted Zell, he froze, jumping a little as the muscles in his arms and legs tensed.

"Why is _he_ here?" Seifer demanded, pointing. "Get out of my house, Chicken Wuss!"

"Sorry, Seifer," Raijin ducked his head. "I invited him over to eat, ya know?"

"You _fed_ him? What is this, Seifer Almasy's Home for Garden Rejects?"

"I was just tellin' them about the mission," Zell replied, his hands tightening into fists under the table. "About going to take back Garden."

"INTERESTING."

Seifer sighed.

"It'd be nice to have a little action again, ya know?" Raijin said.

Fujin nodded, her arms unfolding. "AGREE."

"Hey. If Seifer doesn't want to come, you two still can. The four of us could get it done. I think we've got enough junctions. Should take...eh...a week. Tops!"

Slowly, Raijin and Fujin's head's swiveled around from Zell to their still blazing leader.

Seifer glared at all three of them, then forcefully pulled out a chair and sat in it. "You guys'd just fuck everything up without me. Especially under Instructor Trepe's command. Or the Wuss's here...which'd be even worse." He sighed dramatically. "I always gotta do everything. Raijin, make me a sandwich. Wuss, you tell me about this plan of the Instructor's."

0 0 0

Quistis wasn't sure how she ended up back at the pub. Maybe after failing so miserably to even convince Seifer to give her the time of day, she felt the need to retrace her steps and find the juncture where everything had gone wrong, or maybe she just needed a drink. Either way, she found herself on the second floor of the pub with another warm helping of the mysterious "rainy day special" in one hand, a pool cue in the other, and a gathering group of men standing around watching her play. Her opponent wasn't very good, so she sipped her drink and let her mind slip away.

Seifer really wasn't a human being at all, she thought. No one who really lived and breathed and possessed a beating heart could be so unwaveringly arrogant after such a long fall. Somehow, he'd gone through the entire experience with Ultimecia and had learned nothing. Perhaps he was harder than before, and a little less concerned with glory. Had he finally had his fill of infamy?

She'd felt certain that he would respond to her plea for help, if not out of some deeply hidden better nature than simply because she was offering him the opportunity to do something big again. That he apparently felt no guilt over the part he'd played in the war struck a dissonant chord in her head. Had she expected him to be broken? Maybe. He'd seemed broken the last time she'd seen him on board the Lunatic Pandora all bent over, burned, and beaten. And his grubby appearance on the Balamb docks had seemed to confirm that. With everything she knew about human psychology, he _should have been_ a wastrel, tossed out of society and starving on the sidelines as the indifferent world passed by.

She was a hero. They had won and he had lost.

And here he had a home and a family while she had nothing.

Life just wasn't fair.

"Seven ball, middle right pocket," Quistis called, then carefully calculated her shot and sunk the maroon ball. Behind her, someone clapped. She circled around the table, taking in the location of each of her solid colored balls and working out the angles in her head.

Maybe, she thought, he'd been fibbing. He hadn't actually let her follow him to his house. And he did look pretty shabby. The Seifer she'd known in class wouldn't have been caught dead dressed like a Galbadian bumpkin, doing crosswords in bars and fishing for a living. Besides, he was a terrible fisherman. She remembered he never used to catch anything at the orphanage. Maybe he just didn't want her to see how he was really living. Was he ashamed? Was the guilt hiding there after all?

She called her next shot and, to her horror, scratched. The cue left a chalky blue streak across the green felt.

"Maybe you should stick to Triple Triad," her opponent teased.

Quistis shrugged and sipped her drink.

The problem remained, and weighed heavily on her mind, that if Seifer and his posse wouldn't help them regain control of Garden she and Zell would have to find another way of regaining control of Garden. That the academy had been compromised was no longer a faint possibility, in Quistis' mind the certainty that her friends would not simply abandon her in the wilderness was the only thing keeping her from weeping.

She looked down into her glass. _Maybe I've had too many._

They could recruit cadets out of Trabia Garden. They could take the chance of approaching Galbadia Garden and hope that Krier hadn't already infiltrated their ranks. Or they could return to Esthar and request Laguna loan them some personnel from the Esthar army.

On her next turn, Quistis sunk the four ball and turned her sights on the eight. The five or six observers sucked in and held their breath as she clipped it with the cue ball, sending it spinning across the table and into one of the corner pockets.

"My win," she smiled.

Money exchanged hands, not a few gil falling into Quistis' own outstretched palm.

"You're a good player." One of the men from the dispersing gallery approached her. "Both at billiards and Triple Triad."

"Thanks."

He proffered a hand. "I own his pub." Quistis quickly took his offered handshake, not wanting to get kicked out of this warm, dry place for gambling. He smiled at her and held her hand longer than was comfortable, his palm pressing against hers.

"Nice to meet you," she said, glancing up at his very blue eyes.

"Sorry," he let go of her hand. "You remind me of someone. I was meaning to ask, would you care for a game?"

"Of what sort?"

"Afraid I'm not very good a billiards. It'll have to be cards."

The deck in her pocket was still hurting from the loss of Vinzer Deling, but in the time they'd been in Dollet she'd gained a few more malbororos and a couple ruby dragons.

"Sure."

"Great. I love to try my hand at all the good players. Come on back with me to my office."

The "back to my office" line made Quistis wary, but she followed him anyway. He didn't strike her as the type who would roam the second floor of the pub, inviting girls into back rooms to rape them. And, in any case, he'd find her a difficult target. Plus, she had an odd, tingling sense of familiarity when she looked at him. She'd spent a fair amount of time in Dollet but couldn't place him in context of where she'd seen him before.

"Have a seat," he instructed. "And, if you'd like anything, let me know. It's on me. We make a really fantastic jalapeño popper."

"I'm okay." Quistis stepped around heaping piles of old magazines and newspapers to plop into the seat across his desk. "What's with all the literature?"

He frowned. "Personal collection. What rules would you like to play by?"

"All of them."

His frown twitched at the corners. "Okay. All rules in play."

The random assortment of cards Quistis pulled from her deck proved to be a strong showing, making the pub owner grunt with respect.

"I see why you keep winning," he said.

"It's not all brute force. Tactics, too."

"So you're a tactician?" he asked as the game began.

"By training."

"Oh?"

"Once upon a time, I was an instructor at Balamb Garden," she shrugged.

"So, you're from Balamb then?"

Quistis looked up at him as she put down a card. He was staring at her with his unnervingly blue eyes, his winkled face plastered smooth with blunt interest.

"I'm not really _from_ Balamb," she replied. "I started my training at Galbadia Garden and transferred to Balamb when I was thirteen."

"What made you transfer?"

Honestly, Quistis couldn't recall. Though she remembered Galbadia Garden and had wisps of very specific memories regarding her time there (a poster of famous authors done in caricatures her Elemental Junctioning instructor had on the wall of his office, getting sick and throwing up on the bathroom floor, butterflies in the training area, and the taste of the strawberry yogurt the cafeteria served every other Thursday) she couldn't remember why she'd left. Nor could she distinctly remember her arrival in Balamb Garden, though Squall stood out clearly in her mind, twelve and so easily provoked.

Finally, she just shrugged.

"You're Galbadian then?" the pub owner asked.

In Dollet, that was a loaded question. Quistis had no real sense of her nationality anyway, so she replied, "I'm from Centra, I suppose. Grew up in an orphanage there. I was adopted briefly by a Galbadian family."

He put down a card. "Did you know your parents?"

"No." She put down her own card. What was with all the questions? It was distracting her from the game. Though, maybe that was the point.

"You look very much like my wife," he smiled. "She died..._years_ ago. Drowned. Her and our first baby."

Quistis glanced down at the newspaper at her feet, noticing the headline displayed on top: "Local Woman Drowns." The same phantom flitted across the room with her gaze -- _Body of Mother Recovered From Bay_, _Police Still Searching for Infant in Drowning_, _Foul Play Ruled Out in Recent Local Death_. Part of Quistis wanted to ask him about the incident and another was revolted by his inability to let go and at the way he was looking at her across the table, seeing his long dead wife in her eyes.

"I don't mean to creep you out," he apologized, sensing her unease. "It's not a creepy thing, you know? It's just comforting to see someone who resembles her."

Quistis put down her final card. "I win."

Startled, he glanced down at the game. "Ah...so you did."

They stared at one another for an awkward moment, then Quistis collected her cards. It was a good haul, he had a great deck. If he hadn't been so distracted, he might have proven himself to be a more formidable opponent.

Against her better judgment, Quistis asked, "So, did they ever find the baby?"

"My daughter. No." A wrinkle in the middle of his forehead deepened. "But it was a long time ago."

"Thanks for the game."

"No, thank you. Help yourself to a slice of pie if you're inclined downstairs. My treat."

The whole encounter struck Quistis as very odd as she walked out of his office and back into the pub, her augmented deck of cards in one hand and a handwritten note for a free slice of pie in the other. What in the world had just happened? One thing she knew, she definitely didn't need anything more to drink. She was already getting just a little bit fuzzy.

Downstairs, she ordered her pie from the barkeeper and he came back with a small plate dwarfed by the triangle pastry sitting on top of it, bursting out the sides with round, ruby cherries and glittering on the top with granules of sugar and cinnamon. Against her tongue, it tasted like home. She rested her head in her hand as she ate, lying half across the bar, and watched everyone around her move and converse and live their lives.

"More?" the barkeeper asked her when she finished.

"Oh...no thanks." Behind the bar, hanging above the latticed wine rack, she'd noticed a small collection of photographs. "Who's that?"

He turned around, following her line of vision.

"Oh. That's from back when this place first opened."

"Can I see them?"

Uncertain, he took the pie plate from between her elbows and eyed her. Finally, he nodded and plucked the photos down. They were covered in small gobs of poster putty on the back, some of them Polaroids and others standard four by sixes. With an odd percolating at the back of her mind, she spread them out and looked at each one. They were of a couple standing in front of the pub, which looked virtually the same as it did now. The pub-owner from upstairs was younger then, blushing with pride and full with possibility, his arm slung around his wife. Quistis stared at the woman's long blond hair and slight build. She imagined seeing her pulled from the water, the blond hair matted and dark, her pale skin bruised and blue. It made her shudder, and it made something fundamental in her crawl up and squeeze her heart.

They did look very much alike. Only this woman was happier, and Quistis was...

"Yo! Quisty!"

She lost her train of thought.

"Been looking everywhere for you! Where've ya been? Not here this whole time, I hope." Zell flopped onto the barstool next to her, and Quistis swept the photos aside, covering them with one splayed out hand.

"No...I...uh, I found Seifer and I tried to convince him, but no go. We'll have to think of something else."

"Nu-uh." Zell wrapped an arm around her. "They're gonna go."

"What?"

"Raijin, Fujin, and Seifer. They're going to help us." He grinned in her face and let her go.

"Since when?"

"Since I convinced them. Although, I still think bringing Seifer along is a bad idea. I don't think he even knows how to fight anymore. Have you seen him? Oh yeah, you have. I forgot..."

"_You_ convinced them?" Quistis tried not to let the disbelief flood into her voice. "How?"

"I just told them about it, and they said okay," Zell shrugged. "But, like I said, I think we'd be better off without Seifer. Have you ever _been_ on a mission with him? He'll just mess it up."

"You just told them, and they just agreed?"

"Uh...yeah."

For a second, Quistis wanted to punch Zell. Here she was, doing all this agonizing over what they were going to do now, and he'd had the problem solved for who knows how long. And Seifer hated Zell. How'd he been able to convince the ex-knight while her attempt had failed so completely?

"We're supposed to go back to their place to plan."

"Their place? They have a place?" Quistis could do little but get up and follow Zell out of the pub, her sticky fingers catching and keeping one small Polaroid on the way.

"Pretty nice house, actually. Raijin's a chef. A really good one. And Fujin's a...I dunno. Something. She does math. Seifer's been fishing, and they say he makes pretty good money at it. Which is funny because my dad never did."

Seifer really did have a nice house that he shared with his posse. Quistis was still reeling from this fact when they arrived there and stood outside on the porch for a few minutes just looking at it. Inside, bizarrely, the entire disciplinary committee was lounging in the living room, Seifer sitting in a recliner with his feet propped up, still working on his crossword.

"And here comes the cavalry," he said, only glancing at her for a second.

Looking at him sitting there, smug and sure, a spark of anger flared in Quistis. "Can I talk to you for a second?" she asked, sounding like the instructor she'd once been.

"Go for it."

"Alone."

Fujin and Zell both looked quizzically at their respective friends, while Raijin seemed absorbed in the book he was reading -- a slim volume from the Pupurun series. Seifer laughed, his white teeth showing through his beard and forcefully knocked the footrest back against the chair with his heel.

"Right this way, Instructor." He motioned for her to go into the next room. She did, and he followed. In the dining room, he opened the sliding glass door and ushered her out into the humid, fading afternoon sun that was settling like fog across the deck.

"My God," she said, her hands fisting as he slid the door shut. "You have a deck? And a _hot tub_?"

"Can't have one without the other."

"What's wrong with you?" she demanded. "Did you just think that was funny before?"

"What?"

"You blew me off, but you listen to Zell?" She said it more as an accusation, as if rating Zell over her was something only a person with an extreme personal vendetta or a serious mental illness would do. It was scathingly unfair to her SeeD partner, and she was glad he couldn't hear.

"So what? I'm here, right? Don't look a gift chocobo in the beak, Instructor."

Quistis made a frustrated gurgling sound in the back of her throat. "Just tell me why you're doing this. It can't be because you're really a good person or secretly love Zell. So what's going on? Why are you helping us?"

"You are just so fucking flattering, Instructor. My heart's all a-twitter around you."

"Why can't you just be honest with me?"

"Why can't you just accept my help?"

"You don't want to help. That's what you said. Something must have changed between now and then. Did somebody buy you out? Sorceress Knight for hire?"

"You're getting what you want. Be grateful," he replied blandly, leaning back hard enough against the sliding glass door to warp the light reflecting off of it.

She sighed and stepped close to him, feeling vulnerable and -- against all logic -- hurt. "Why did you say no to me?"

"You didn't ask nicely."

"And I suppose Zell was nothing but polite to you."

"You're kind of obsessed with the little Wuss, Instructor."

"I don't trust you," she announced with a downward wave of her arm.

"Then why the fuck did you come all the way here to find me?"

Glancing at the deck beneath her feet and the hot tub to her left, she wondered the same thing. His prosperity was throwing her off. This wasn't what she'd been expecting. Offering a broken soul a chance to earn some measure of redemption was completely different than what she was doing now. Talking to Seifer about assisting them in an assault on Garden felt a lot like recruiting a mob boss to do a shady, underhanded thing. This wasn't noble. This was boot-licking. But here he stood, looking down at her, willing to help. Seifer and his posse were as close to a group of trained SeeDs as they were going to get, and ones intimately familiar with the target as well.

Forking a hand through her hair, Quistis said, "Let's just go back inside and get this done."

When she reached for the door handle, Seifer grabbed her hand, pinching her fingers together in his grip. Quistis winced and pulled away, pained by his rough handling and shocked at having skin to skin contact with him.

"Way I figure," he said, leaning close to her. "You and Chicken Wuss'll owe me one for this. I scratch your back..."

"I won't _ever_ 'scratch your back,' Seifer."

"Yes you will." His narrow, green eyes were so intense she could feel the heat of his gaze warming her cheeks and forehead. She'd never been this close to him before outside of combat. It made her flinch, made instincts rise up and scream _defend yourself!_

They walked back into the living room with nothing resolved. Zell, Raijin, and Fujin looked up at the both of them, evidently expecting an explanation and received none. Quistis wasn't even sure she could explain what had possessed her to confront Seifer about something so trivial, though it still bothered her. _ Why had he said no to her?_

"Do you still have your weapons?" she asked instead, resuming the comfortable role of teacher.

"AFFIRMATIVE!"

"Good. Zell and I can provide the three of you with one junction each, but our magic supply is a little low, so we can't do too much swapping. Say only one spell each." She ran through a mental inventory. "We probably won't need them. We have the element of surprise. Whoever commandeered Garden probably didn't realize we were gone at the time. They won't be expecting us to sneak in."

"Zell thinks it was the Galbadians," Raijin offered.

"It's probable. We were working with a joint Esthar and Galbadia team at the time."

"Galbadia and Esthar working together?" Seifer snorted. "And then the world's fungars took wing and flew."

"It seemed strange to us as well. As it turns out, they were...actually, it doesn't matter. That's not important to our objective. What we really need to figure out is how to get to where Garden's at right now, and how to get in once we get there."

"I thought you had a plan." Seifer was back in his recliner as if he'd never left it. He even had his damn crossword again.

"I do. But I didn't spend my formative years sneaking in and out of Garden, so I'm willing to take suggestions."

"I've got a few."

"I suppose you do. But first, how we're going to get there."

"FLY."

"Right. You two are all cozy with the folks in Esthar. Ask them if we can borrow one of their ships."

"That's not going to work," Quistis shook her head. "The Esthar military has already attempted to approach Garden and they suffer instrument malfunctions five miles away from target."

"Oh yeah. Zell told us about that, ya know?"

"Then what's the great, master plan, Instructor?"

"There's only one other way to approach while Garden remains at sea." Quistis looked down at the cream colored carpet, wary of saying what she had to next. "We need access to a boat."

"Ahh...shit no!" Seifer slammed his crossword down onto the coffee table. "Not a chance."

"You already said you'd help!" Zell leapt up off the couch, already in a fighting stance. "You takin' it back?"

"It's not _my_ boat, Chicken Wuss!"

"We'll commandeer it. We're SeeD!"

"You're going to get me fired!" Seifer was up out of his chair now, too, nose to nose with Zell. "You're going to fuck up my whole goddamn life again!"

"You did that to yourself!"

"Knock it off!" Quistis had to force her way between them, shouldering them apart while Fujin and Raijin were content to watch the fight take place, maybe even reveling in the possibility. "We'll _rent_ it. I've got the money if you can broker the deal, Seifer."

"Fine. I'll see what I can do. Seein' as I've got to do everything." He retreated back to his recliner, taking the battle as a win. Zell was still standing, shaking with rage and buggy-eyed. In a feeble effort to comfort him, Quistis put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, unsure whether he even noticed.

"Now," she continued, standing firmly next to Zell. "Sneaking in?"

Seifer grinned. "There are a few ways of getting in Garden on the sly. None of them pretty. You sure you want to do this, Instructor? Wouldn't want to smudge up that pretty face of Zell's."

"Grraagh!" Zell lunged across the room and tackled Seifer in his chair, knocking it backward so that their legs were flying in the air, Zell's kicking as he fought to push himself up from a face-plant into the carpet. Raijin and Fujin cheered for Seifer, fists pumping into the air. And Quistis stood in the middle of it all, war waging on one side and misdirected, passionate intensity on the other.

This wasn't a gathering of heroes. This was a circus. And she was its leader.


	8. Assault on Garden

A/N: My entire knowledge of the commercial fishing industry is from watching episodes of Deadliest Catch. Therein lies the inspiration for Seifer's salty, sea captain. As for the last half of the chapter, I apologize in advance for my utter inability to compose action sequences.

Chapter 7: Assault on Garden

Face buried in her hair and bare feet pushing gently against the cool wood of the bed frame, Squall shuddered and sighed. Underneath him, Rinoa shifted and pressed a kiss to his right shoulder, the one that so often ached from hours of gunblade training. He felt her warm breath fan across his skin and strained for leverage with his toes, making the bed groan as he pressed into her. They melted into one another. Squall was lost in the shadow of her hair, haloed in an easy darkness that changed his lust into something gentle and easy. He couldn't think, couldn't form a coherent thought, when she was so soft all around him.

As he moved -- _slowly_ -- his mind drifted away into blissful nothing. He was faceless, nameless, purposeless aside from this moment with _her._

Against his ear, she was murmuring something. And her legs were drawing up around him, locking his stretched out, languid form against her.

Rinoa.

He kissed the side of her neck, his nose nuzzling the downy underside of her hair. God, he loved her hair. He loved the way she smelled. He loved her voice.

"Rinoa..."

Fingers sinking into flesh, a sudden tightness in his chest, and the heat of her affection overwhelmed him.

Taste.

Touch.

Rapture.

And then, a _flash_ -- a creeping phantom crawling out of her hair; someone else underneath him, clutching his body to their own, hot and putrid.

Squall broke the hold Rinoa's legs had on him and was across the bed before his head stopped spinning.

"Squall?" She was looking at him, her brown eyes wide and the blankets clutched tightly to her chest. "What is it? Squall?"

"I...uh..." His heart was racing. He could hear it in his ears, pounding out sense and logic. "Sorry. I don't know why..."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" He took a breath to steady himself and then repeated, more calmly, "No." As he blinked, she resolved again into the young woman he'd been making love to. Only now she was frowning and hurt.

"What happened?"

"Nothing. Like I said."

"It seemed like _something_."

"Forget it." He moved back toward her side, easing the sheets down out of her fingers to pull her bodily toward him. "I'm sorry." As she relaxed again, he moved his fingers through her hair, breathing a sigh of relief that she was in his arms again.

"Are you falling out of love with me?" she asked.

"What? No. Never." He dropped a kiss on top of her head to emphasize the point.

For a moment she was quiet, then she mumbled against his shoulder, "We should spend some time together, away from Garden."

He shook his head. "I've got to handle the fall-out of the crater mission." His fingers journeyed down her back, remembering how they'd pulled at her clothing, how they'd lost themselves in her beauty. Forgetting the vision that had interrupted them, he smiled.

"Sometimes work shouldn't be your first priority," she said, interrupting the path of his hand south. "You just jumped away from me...in the middle of _ everything_. Is it stress?"

"I told you. It was nothing."

Rinoa sat up so that they were face to face, her dark eyes taking him in. He couldn't look away when she got so close. Leaning in , he pressed a short kiss to her mouth.

"We should go to Centra."

"Centra?"

"You promised," she reminded him with a little smile. "To the flower field."

"Alright. As soon as we get back to Balamb, I'll see about getting time off to go."

"No. I mean, we should go now."

"Now?"

"Right now."

"But I..."

She kissed him, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. "You promised."

Squall's head was fuzzy. He still couldn't think. She was so _close_.

"We need to get away from Garden for a while. We need to go to Centra."

I'll be there...I promise.

"To the flower field, like we said."

"Yes." He tried to pin point the reason he wanted to say no, but couldn't corral the logic into any semblance of meaning, and she was pushing him onto his back in the bed again. To Centra? He'd promised to meet her there. But wasn't she right here? He stared up at her as she moved on top of him, illuminated by her innocence.

"I...Centra."

"We need to leave immediately." One of her hands petted his jaw while the other traced his scar, sending an odd, electrical shiver through his brain. His eyes rolled back in his head. "Squall?"

"Hm?"

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes." Of their own accord, his arms gathered her close. "We'll go. I change our course as soon as I get to work."

She propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at him for a protracted moment, a mix of emotions playing across her face. Was that fear? He couldn't be sure. All he could feel was her body and her beauty.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice quaking.

0 0 0

"What do you mean, I can't talk to them?" Jack Krier was pressing the telephone receiver so hard to his ear that it was growing hot.

"They aren't available at the moment."

"Not available as in they're on the goddamn crapper, or not available as in they're prisoners?"

"Trabia Garden is not equipped to handle prisoners."

"So you're holding them?"

"No. They're just not available."

Krier grated his teeth together. "Why not?"

"I'm afraid I'm not authorized to reveal that."

"Listen, maybe you don't realize who it is you're talking to. This is Jack Krier, the _President_ of Galbadia. You want be friends with me. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Now give me somebody who _is_ authorized to tell me something, or I swear to God I'll--"

"Yes, Sir."

As hold music came on over the phone, Krier took a moment to sit back in his chair and check his pulse. Patience was not among his virtues. He'd just been given the news that his men in Trabia had been taken prisoner the night before, following a very brief call to Deling City University from Crecentia Fellows.

The hold music stopped and someone cleared their throat. "This is Headmaster Neko."

"Headmaster Neko, this is President Krier of Galbadia."

"Good afternoon. Or...is it still morning there?"

"Morning. Quite early, in fact."

"I was told you've been on the phone for sometime already. What about our little Garden has struck you so, President?"

"You've got two of my men in your custody."

Headmaster Neko paused and Krier heard him typing. "Do we? Let's see. It looks like...well, we do have two guests. But they can't be your men."

"And why's that?"

"One of them is a woman."

"Semantics. I'd like to talk to them."

"One of them is currently undergoing surgery in our infirmary and so cannot come to the phone, I'm afraid. The other is otherwise occupied."

Momentarily ignoring the evasive _otherwise occupied_ comment, Krier asked, "What sort of surgery?"

"His foot was severely broken when he arrived."

Likely not a SeeD inflicted wound, which was good. But why was Duran at Trabia Garden instead of Balamb? Krier had been attempting to contact the other Garden all morning with no luck. Although, they were sitting nearly on top of the crater, so interruptions in communications were to be expected.

"Let me talk to the other one. And don't tell me that you can't. Whatever she's doing, you can either interrupt or you can wait a few hours and see if our ballistic technology has improved in the past two years."

"Is that a threat?"

"It certainly sounded like one."

The Trabian headmaster paused and Krier heard him intake a solid breath. He was getting nervous. _Good_.

"You wouldn't launch an unprovoked attack."

"Not unprovoked. You're holding two Galbadian civilians against their will."

"Civilians, you say? The information we gleaned from SeeD Trepe indicates these two hardly qualify for that label. They're both one signature away from being full-fledged members of the Galbadian army."

"But they're not. They're scientists, in your area to do research."

"Be that as it may, that designation passed the moment Balamb Garden was seized."

The muscles in Krier's hand went slack and he almost dropped the receiver. "I'm sorry...repeat that?"

"You shouldn't have abandoned your own men during the takeover. That's just sloppy, Jack."

"Balamb Garden is no longer in the area?" _Fuck._ That was bad news. That was very bad news. "Are the others there as well? The two from Esthar and the SeeDs?"

"No. They left for Esthar three days--"

_Esthar! _Krier hung up before Headmaster Neko had the opportunity to finish the sentence and was dialing again before his next breath. Why the hell hadn't he been notified?

"Yes? Hello?" A small, hard voice interrupted the ringing on the line.

"Where is Balamb Garden?"

A small chuckle. "At ze moment, it iz just west of Balamb."

"Why didn't you inform me that the initial plan had failed?"

"It iz fine. My men are on it."

"Well mine are being held prisoner in Trabia!" Krier roared.

"Ah, and you see how ze balance of power has shifted in my favor then?"

Krier slammed his fist down on his desk and hung up on the cackling doctor as well. _Goddamn, backstabbing, Estharan tonberries!_ They'd have to scramble now to make it on time. No more subtlety. Krier was going to do this his way: with the army.

0 0 0

Captain Til Colburn was a savvy business man. He hardly glanced at Quistis' SeeD badge when she flashed it across the carpeted expanse of his living room and he ignored the uneasy Seifer who was looking decidedly uninterested in the outcome of their bargaining. Instead, he relaxed on his couch, a bag of potato chips in one hand and a dewy beer in the other. He was younger than Quistis had anticipated, probably about Laguna's age. Somehow she'd imagined a ship's captain would have to be either more long in the tooth or more physically imposing, while this man was entirely ordinary. Minus that excellent ear for profit.

"Do you have any idea what a boat costs?" he asked.

"We can more than compensate you."

"I doubt it. And I'm not about to let you sail off to the horizon with my livelihood."

"I understand your hesitation." Quistis glanced at Seifer, hoping he'd help, but he continued to quietly sip the beer Captain Colburn had provided when they arrived.

"I don't think you do. Crab season's just passed, and in a few weeks shrimp season will open. We don't fish year 'round, so I need the _Black Mage_ to be ready to go, or we'll loose all our competitive edge."

"It will only take--"

"And," he interrupted, stern faced. "I'm damn certain that taking her off on some SeeD mission would hardly leave her in top condition for the shrimp season."

"Captain Colburn," Quistis sighed, rubbing her temple. "You've lived in Dollet for a while. You must remember two...almost three years ago, when Galbadia invaded. Without Balamb Garden, Dollet would have been occupied just like Timber. The Dollet Dukedom is weak. Without Balamb Garden, your livelihood is already threatened."

Captain Colburn considered this for a moment, then said, "What exactly is this mission you need my _Black Mage_ for?"

Quistis was hesitant to say. She didn't want word leaking out that Balamb Garden was no longer under SeeD control.

"The only part your boat would play would be to transport me and my team to where Balamb Garden is currently located. We'll board Garden there, and that will be that."

"Why don't you just call one of your Garden vessels to come get you?"

"That's not possible at this point."

"I see," he grumbled. "And how exactly are you involved in this, Seifer? Didn't think you and SeeD were too friendly. Guess there's some exceptions?" He looked pointedly at Quistis. She didn't like the implication.

"Instructor Trepe was one of my teachers. I'm just making the introductions is all."

She gazed hopefully at the captain. "Like I said, we can offset any of your operating costs as well as pay a rental fee. You'll be back in Dollet long before the shrimp season opens."

Captain Til Colburn set his empty beer can aside. "So...how much exactly is it you're thinking might offset my operating costs?"

They spent more than an hour haggling over gil before they came to an agreement. The _Black Mage_ would leave port in two hours with a skeleton crew and Captain Colburn at the helm, and Quistis would electronically transfer a sizeable amount of gil into his account before they left.

As Seifer walked with her to the bank, Quistis was deep in thought on the issue of finances. "There goes my nest egg. Although, I'm not sure why I was saving anyway. It's sort of funny. I make a good salary as a SeeD, but I don't really need it, and I don't ever have the opportunity to spend it. Not in any conspicuous way like you do...a house, amenities. The richest SeeDs have the nicest weapons. And I've already got the best whip on the market."

Seifer, as usual, hardly acknowledged that she was speaking. She wouldn't have been surprised if he hadn't heard a word she'd said.

At the bank, they were delayed half an hour when the teller blanched at the amount Quistis indicated she wanted to transfer out of her account. They had to sit down and wait for a manager, who took them to his office and asked probing questions about the "suspicious nature" of their request. Seifer was seconds away from snapping the bank manager's neck when he finally processed the transaction and handed them the receipt.

At Seifer's house, they walked in to find Raijin in the living room, swinging his staff around while Fujin sat cross-legged on the floor, cleaning her circular, blue pinwheel. Out of context, they looked just as they had years before when they'd roamed the Garden as the Disciplinary Committee. Raijin faltered when Quistis entered the room, his staff slipping through his fingers as it arced through the air to smash into the wall, leaving a visible dent above the couch.

"Shit, Raijin. Go do that outside if you're going to be such a dumb-ass."

Cowed, Raijin slunk across the room to retrieve his staff.

"It was an accident. You know it was. It's not like he meant to do that."

"I don't give a shit about intentions, Instructor."

Quistis sighed and turned to Fujin. "Where's Zell?"

"HOTEL."

"Alright. I'll go get Zell. You three meet us at the _Black Mage _in..." she checked her watch, "one hour and ten minutes."

Seifer turned and walked away, as dismissive of her orders as ever, while Raijin and Fujin both obediently saluted. Quistis was relieved to walk out of the house and leave the Disciplinary Committee behind. Together, they reminded her too vividly of the way things were in the deepest, most hopeless parts of the war. There were times (at the Galbadian missile base, attacking Lunatic Pandora, during time compression) when she'd thought they might not all come out alive. It was difficult now to look at these people and not think of them as the enemy.

At the hotel, Quistis gathered together what little she had. Zell was tucked halfway under the covers when she walked in, snoring softly. He opened one eye then closed it again and ignored her while she packed. He still wasn't very pleased about Seifer's inclusion in the mission, although he acknowledged late in the night when they were both staring into the dark that they probably couldn't do it without the fallen knight. Not if all of Garden had been commandeered. They'd need all the help they could get, no matter where it came from.

Quistis finally roused him fifteen minutes before they had to leave for the docks.

They arrived early. The captain was there, prepping his ship for the trip. It was the same one Quistis had seen docking in Balamb, fat and squatty.

"Do you have a receipt?" Captain Colburn asked when Quistis walked up to him.

"The funds won't be directly available for twenty four hours, but they're in your account." She handed him the receipt, which he examined and then stuffed into his shirt pocket.

"Well, I think I can go that long without spending it. Welcome aboard the _ Black Mage_." Quistis stepped onto the ship, which smelled faintly of brine and lemon. By the time their short tour was over, Seifer and his posse had arrived. Seifer was making himself at home, nodding to a few members of the crew who greeted him and rolling up the sleeves of his navy blue shirt as he flopped into a chair in the stern cabin.

Not sure what else to do, Quistis followed his example and seated herself in the chair next to him as the ship slowly maneuvered out of port.

"I guess we should discuss junctions," she announced as Raijin, Fujin, and Zell made themselves comfortable. "We only have enough for everyone to have one. Fujin, I think you should take Pandemona. That's always been a good GF match for you. And Raijin, I think Quezacotl would be a perfect junction for you. Which leaves Cactaur for Seifer."

Seifer sucked in a breath to respond and choked on it. In between sputtering coughs he ground out, "Cactaur! You've got to be _kidding_ me. Fujin and Raijin get elemental monsters, and I get a _cactus_?"

"Cactaur is an excellent GF to junction to."

"Then you keep him. Who've you got?"

"Bahamut."

"Great. I'll take him."

"No you won't. He won't junction with you. He's picky."

Seifer huffed. "Fine. Who's Zell got?"

"No way, Man! I'm keeping Ifrit! I've been junctioned to him since my Fire Cavern exam."

"Cactaur is one of the strongest GFs we have. He's a great junction," Quistis repeated. "You'll see."

Seifer looked away and grumbled when Quistis took his hand, closed her eyes, and let the magic move between them. His fingers tightened when he felt the little guardian barge into his brain. Opening her eyes, she watched his expression shift from irritation to uncomfort. "Prickly little bastard," he mumbled and slid his palm away from hers. She flexed her newly released fingers and sought out Bahamut in her own head to reassure herself that he was still there.

"So now that I've got my cactus guardian, what's the plan oh valiant leader?" Seifer shifted in his seat as he spoke. Cactaur didn't care for being spoken ill of.

"We find Garden," she shrugged. "And we sneak in however we can." It was a simple plan. Not really a plan at all.

"Right. That'll work."

"It will." Quistis shot Seifer a hard glare. There wasn't any other option if it didn't work. She didn't know how to function outside of SeeD.

Seifer snorted and settled into a game of Triple Triad with Raijin. Fujin sat between them, able to see both players hands and would nod disapprovingly whenever Seifer went to make a bad move. Quistis watched them until they cleared port, then excused herself to go find the captain. Out on the open ocean, the ship was pitching and rolling over waves and she had to hold onto the railing as she walked across the damp deck. A faster, sleeker Garden ship would have been able to cut through seas like this, she thought wistfully.

She found Captain Colburn sitting hunched over a map, scribbling on it with a tiny, chewed up pencil.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Planning for the shrimp season." He put one hand over the map, guarding it from her prying eyes. As if she cared where he decided to fish.

"How's satellite looking? Clear?" She sunk into the chair next to him.

"It's a little overcast, but it shouldn't keep us from finding your Garden." He moved over, making room for Quistis to hang over the satellite screen, which was displaying a patchwork of blue seas and gray clouds. In amongst them, a green triangle was blinking and moving. "That's us," he explained, jabbing at the screen with the blunt point of his middle finger.

Quistis sat hunched over the satellite screen as Captain Colburn's pencil continued to scratch. He made little sounds as he worked, content to turn his back to her and pretend that she wasn't there. She stared at the shifting clouds and the excruciatingly slow movement of their marker on the screen until her eyes blurred. Other ships appeared from time to time looking like black grains of rice on the screen, but there was no sign of Balamb Garden. Her hope was flagging and the sky was growing murky when she noticed Seifer walk by the window, swatting at the air around his head. He walked over to the railing and draped his upper body over the side of the boat, his arms folded under his chest.

"I need a break," she announced to the captain. "Let me know if you spot anything."

Outside, the wind was picking up. It blew her hair in her face and was cutting the tops off the waves, creating white wisps of mist that rose from the sea like comet tails.

"Are you okay?" She came up behind Seifer slowly, not wanting to startle him.

He spun around to face her, his beard damp and salty. "What? I'm fine."

"Why aren't you with the others?"

"Why aren't you?"

"I'm watching the satellite."

"Really?" he arched an eyebrow.

"Well, I was, until you stormed by. Are you sick?"

"No." He turned back around. Quistis walked up to the railing and stood beside him. The fact that he'd blown her off in Dollet was still itching at the back of her mind, and she wanted to ask him about it again, but she sensed this wasn't the best time to bother him. As distasteful as it was, she needed to be on his good side until they regained control of Garden.

"So...this is the ship you work on?"

"Yeah."

"How long have you been doing that for?"

He glanced at her. "A year and a half."

Quistis tried to look comfortable, though she was anything but standing next to her once-upon-a-time student. "What made you take up a fishing job? I always thought you weren't much of a fisherman."

"I don't have to be. Just him." Seifer motioned to Captain Colburn with his head. "It's not like we each cast a line and then wait for something to bite."

"Oh."

There was a long, awkward silence before he asked, "How the hell did Garden get away from you and Chicken Wuss, anyway?"

"It just sort of sailed away while we were out on a mission."

"How do you know they didn't just leave you?"

Quistis took a step away from him. "No one in Trabia or Esthar has been able to get in contact with them."

"Esthar? Who the hell are you working with in Esthar?"

"The President, Laguna Loire, and Dr. Odine."

Seifer laughed and let his head stray back out over the water. "And how do you know they're not fucking with you?"

"Laguna's one of the most trustworthy men I know."

"Well, it's good to see you're still getting around, Instructor. Wouldn't want all that practice you put in with the goddamn Treppies to go to waste."

"What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on. SeeD at fifteen? It was fucking un-heard of, _Instructor_. You're gonna try to say now that you didn't put in a little time on your back to get there?" He flinched as Cactaur must have reacted to what he was thinking.

Quistis' arms flew up and crossed tightly across her chest. "I worked my ass off to make SeeD," she hissed, closing in on him as she spoke. "And Laguna Loire happens--"

"Garden."

She was still barreling through her sentence, "--to be Squall's...wait. What?"

He extended an arm over her shoulder. "Garden. Right there."

Behind her, barely visible on the horizon, was a haze of glowing, blue mist that was shifting in and out of focus. Forgetting about the insult, she leaned over the railing and squinted, Seifer at her back. She leaned hard, straining toward the scent of home, the sea air whipping her hair around her neck. _Yes. There! A fin_. And...what was that flying around it? Vivid, white sprites danced around the fin that was illuminated by a passing shaft of sunlight.

"You've got a way to get us in from this angle?" Quistis asked, peeking over her shoulder at her un-likely ally.

He grinned. "I can think of one or two."

0 0 0

"Hey, Selph. I found something." Irvine picked through a wall of foliage. Selphie was on the other side, crouched down on a not often used path, waiting for a T-Rexaur to wander by. They'd all taken to avoiding her, which was simple since she stood out like a daffodil in a clover field against the drab earthen tones of the Training Center. She didn't usually have much luck hiding either since she wasn't very good at it.

"Irvy! Shh!"

He squatted next to her and whispered, "Sorry. Look what I found."

One arm snaked around her back as he tucked close and opened his palm to her, revealing a dusty silver ring. He'd discovered it lying in the dirt, probably abandoned long ago by some cadet fleeing a monster. It was small and delicate and reminded him so much of Selphie. She smiled at him when he took her hand, cleaned the bit of jewelry on his coat, and then slid it onto her finger. A perfect fit.

You are so smooth.

"It's pretty," she said, holding her hand up to look it in the light.

He inched closer. "Mmm..."

Selphie giggled. "Way prettier than Rinoa's!"

"Much prettier than Rinoa."

Selphie looked away, her hands on her cheeks. Why did she always ignore him like this? Why wouldn't she ever look at him when things got serious? It was always okay to flirt when it was innocent horsing around -- she loved that. She'd steal his hat and wear it like a badge, grab his arm at scary movies, scold him for looking too long at other women. But whenever things got intense, whenever he looked at her like he was right now, she spooked.

"Selph..." He gripped her arm to turn her face back toward him. She was pleasantly flushed with embarrassment, her cheeks round and red like summer apples. Irvine smiled. Not the big, flashy one meant to charm, but a genuine, small one that he reserved for her when they were alone and he could smell her perfume in the air.

Taking a chance, he went on his knees and leaned around her still curved upper body. He closed his eyes and found her nose with his, then, not daring to breathe lest he frighten her away, he found her lips -- trembling and uncertain -- with his own.

As kisses went, it was the most heart-pounding, gut wrenchingly beautiful one Irvine could recall since the last time he'd managed to corral her into one. They were few and far between, something rare and valuable. And he couldn't help being greedy, so after breaking for a gasping breath, he kissed her again, with more emphasis, leaning ever further in toward this girl who'd been in his dreams since childhood.

She broke away, her green eyes flashing open.

"I can't keep this," she announced, standing up. She pulled off the ring and handed it back to him. "Somebody lost it here, Irvy. We should return it, don't you think?"

"Uh...yeah." He stood up with her, not quite certain what he'd done wrong.

"We can go ask Dr. Kadowaki if she knows anything about it as soon as I find my T-Rexaur. Okay?" She grinned wide, pressed a quick peck to his right cheek, and bounded off into the shrubbery. The girl was a slippery one, he had to give her that.

Irvine made his way back to the main trail, stomping as loud as he could through the bushes in hopes of driving out an equally elusive T-Rexaur for his girl. All he managed was a grat that had some sort of fungus problem. He skirted around that one, holding his nose against the stench and burst from the trees near the Secret Area just in time to hear someone say, "Oh God. What did I just step in?" Another voice, male, laughed.

"Eww, Quisty. I think that's grat doo."

Quistis?

"Told you to watch where you step."

What in the world?

Irvine started toward the voices. One definitely belonged to Zell, the other he didn't recognize. It was a relief to hear them, even if Quistis had stepped in grat shit. No one had seen either of them for days, it seemed. They were keeping one hell of a low profile.

He came around a corner in time to see a flash of gold vanish back into the trees. For a second, he opened his mouth to call out to her, to ask her to wait for him, but his curiosity overrode the urge. He wanted to know what they were up to stumbling around in the roughage. Certainly not what _he'd_ been up to. Or...God...Quistis and Zell? Wait. No. There was at least one other guy, too.

Irvine actually blushed as the next thought went rampaging across his brain. _Holy Alexander! Quisty!_

Boots crunching softly across dried leaves and sticks, Irvine propped his gun against his shoulder and started toward the section of bushes he'd seen Quistis walk into, mentally preparing himself for the worst. Two men, Quistis, a whip, and grat shit spelled trouble any way you put them together.

Still, he was unprepared when some ten minutes later, he came up against the back wall of the Training Center and collided with the broad, tree-trunk back of Raijin.

"COWBOY!" Fujin pointed as Raijin spun around on his heel.

_How did they get here?_ Irvine, Raijin, and Fujin stared at one another for a silent heartbeat until a third form materialized from the foliage, recognizable as ever despite his shaggy hair and thick beard.

"Seifer!" By instinct, Exeter flew off Irvine's shoulder and came to rest pointing directly at the fallen knight's heart. "Don't move!"

"RAGE!"

Where were Quisty and Zell? How had these three gotten in here? Up against the wall, adrenaline running high, there wasn't time to ask the group before him any questions. He just hoped that someone would hear and come to his aid as he yelled, "Garden's under attack!" and fired off his first shot.

0 0 0

Quistis' knees ached. She couldn't believe she was in _another_ maintenance shaft. The first one had been tricky to get into, and Zell had almost fallen into the sea trying to hop from the side of the _Black Mage_ onto a small walkway running along the underside of Garden's port wall. The wild flock of seagulls that were flying circles around Garden hadn't helped. They fought a gauntlet of wings and feathers the entire way. Seifer directed them to a maze of crawl spaces and catwalks that eventually dropped them into a thickly overgrown corner of the Training Center, right next to a large circuit box. She was still angry over the grat droppings she'd stepped in on her way out of the shaft as she climbed up into this one, although she'd managed to get most of it off her boot in the grass.

According to Seifer, this particular crawlspace would drop them out on the third floor where they could then make their way to the bridge, hopefully bypassing any security on the first and second floors. Using the elevator was out of the question.

Inside the shaft, she craned her neck around to make sure that Seifer, Fujin, and Raijin were following (there had been some concerns that Raijin might not fit into the space) when she heard a gunshot.

Instinctively, she ducked for cover, as did Zell up ahead of her.

"What was that? Is our cover blown?"

"I don't know." She got back to her knees and shoved against the back of his legs. "Keep going."

"But the others..."

"If we can regain control on the bridge, we can help them. Keep going."

Up ahead, the maintenance shaft widened and led to a black, wiry staircase that spiraled up between the walls. Quistis and Zell were panting as they climbed it, no longer concerned with stealth so much as speed. More than she would have admitted, the fate of the Disciplinary Committee hung on Quistis' mind, and as they moved she kept glancing behind her to see if they were there, whole and unscathed. They were her team after all, whatever her personal feelings.

"This must be it." Zell stopped to examine a yellow sticky note hanging only half-stuck to the wall that marked the rough location of the hatch they were standing in front of. An elegant system, surely. With as sophisticated as Balamb Garden appeared from without, its insides were surprisingly messy and disorganized. "It's the third floor, anyway."

"Good. Let's go."

Zell had to strain to open the hatch door, his gloves creaking around his knuckles.

"Remind you of the tomb in Trabia?" he asked before they ducked through the small opening.

"Just a little."

They emerged in an unused office that was filled with banker's boxes of files. Quistis took one look around and swore, recognizing the location immediately.

"That bastard."

"Who?"

"Seifer."

Zell scratched his head. "Sure. But why do you say so?"

"Don't you know where we are?" she asked, folding her arms.

"Uh...file room?"

Quistis kicked a box. "This is the instructor's file room. These are everyone's old exams, assignments, student records...you name it. Now I know why he always did well on the tests despite hardly ever showing up for class."

Zell took a look around, seeing for the first time the cadet's holy land, but didn't say anything. It seemed petty to hold it over Seifer now, even to Zell, with the knight's life still presumably hanging in the balance below.

"Whatever. Let's just go."

The third floor was mostly abandoned, just like it was on most days. Only faculty had access and they tended to spend most of their time on the ground floor or in the classrooms. There wasn't much need to go up into the administrative part of the building except to see Cid, who was nowadays handing off more and more responsibility to Squall. Even Xu's office was empty. Her skin tingling at the barrenness, Quistis followed Zell through the double doors into the Headmaster's office where the elevator to the bridge was waiting.

"You ready?" she asked, her hand hovering near the up button.

Zell flexed his fingers. "Ready."

The elevator surged up to the bridge level with the both of them crouched in battle ready positions, Zell holding his fists out and Quistis swinging her whip. From the abandoned nature of the third floor, she supposed they still had the element of surprise, and they didn't intend to lose it.

However, as the elevator came to a stop, Quistis and Zell were the ones surprised.

Squall and Rinoa turned to face them as they leapt off the elevator platform and onto the bridge, their eyes wide. No one else was there. Not even Nida. And certainly not some group of hostile Galbadians bent on world domination.

"Squall?" Quistis managed to say on a weak breath.

"What is it?" he asked, calm despite the way Save the Queen was still swinging in her grip.

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. What could she say to someone who'd abandoned her? Her effort was interrupted by a squawk on the intercom.

"Commander Squall!" Selphie's voice, high with panic. "Squall! We have a problem!"

"What is it Selphie?" Squall asked, just as firmly as he's spoken to Quistis. Unflappable.

"It's Irvine! We're under attack! Seifer and his posse are here!"

_Irvine. Crap._ The gunshot they'd heard must have been his.

"Sir!" Xu's voice cut in on the conversation. "We have a situation down here in the Quad!"

Squall turned his back on Quistis and Zell. "Seifer and his posse. I know."

"What? No, Sir! Galbadians!"

Still standing in the doorway, Quistis and Zell were too dumbstruck to move. Rinoa was regarding them warily, her eyes on their weapons as Squall continued to blithely ignore their presence. He fell into a thinking pose, his hand cupping his chin.

"Seifer and his posse are with us," Quistis squeaked out. "We...we were..."

"You left us, Man!" Zell growled. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Rinoa walked over to Squall and rested one hand on his shoulder, her expression odd. "They're with Seifer, Squall. They brought the Galbadians here to attack us."

"What? Rinoa!" Quistis gasped.

Without hesitation, Squall depressed the button for the main intercom and announced in a loud, strong voice, "Attention Garden. We are under attack by the Galbadian Army. Take defensive positions. SeeDs, respond to the Quad. The hostile forces are being led by Seifer Almasy."

Horrified, Quistis felt her stomach drop. What was happening here? Squall was moving like he was in some kind of haze, his judgment completely controlled by Rinoa who was hissing and whispering in his ear like some kind of...oh no. The couple rounded on them. Brilliant and flashing azure, Lionheart came unsheathed in Squall's hand. Behind him, Rinoa was still talking, saying things that Quistis couldn't hear, a malevolent look on her pretty, delicate features even as fat tears squeezed from her eyes.

"Zell..." Quistis took a step back, hot fear taking hold of her for the first time. "Zell...oh God." She threw out an arm and they fell together back onto the elevator pad as Squall swung at them, Lionheart splitting the air just above their heads, nearly taking off the top of Quistis' fishtail. They were scrambling back against the wall, trying to avoid the inevitable next blow when the elevator shuddered and started to move down, leaving both of them to tumble off the unprotected side to the floor below.

A loud thump rang in Quistis ears when she hit, landing nearly on top of Raijin who let out a loud yelp.

Over the painful pounding of her heart, she heard Squall jump down onto the lowering platform, his boots ringing the metal casing like a bell.

"What the fuck? Puberty Boy?"

"We need to get out of here. _Now!_" Quistis grabbed onto Raijin's pants to haul herself to her feet. Her arm ached where she'd fallen on it and Save the Queen was tangled around her legs. "Now! Go!" She gave Raijin a shove but realized she was too late when she heard Squall's boots impact the soft carpet of the headmaster's office. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the blue arc of Lionheart in motion, swinging toward her head.

But as she flinched, still struggling to step out of her whip, she heard the surprising wail of metal grating on metal and was shocked to open her eyes and find Seifer at her back, Hyperion in both hands, the muscles in his forearms visibly strained. Over his elbow she could see Squall's face, contorted with a kind of rage she'd never seen him exhibit before in all her years of observation. He'd gone completely berserk.

Fujin and Zell were already running for the door.

Seifer parried Squall's trust, throwing him back a step, and seemed utterly surprised when a small, green cactus materialized in between them.

"Damn it. Get out of the way you tiny little--"

Quistis had to grab the back of his shirt to haul him out of the way as cactaur sprang into the air and showered Squall with a thousand tiny, evanescent needles. She tried not to look as the commander threw up an arm to protect his face. Cactaur's attack was brutal, she knew. And she couldn't stand watch this man she loved so much endure it. Seifer's shirt was knotted hard in her hands.

"Come on! Let's go!"

Raijin followed at the tail end of the group as they sprinted for the elevator. No point in being subtle now and crawling through access shafts. All of Garden already knew they were here, and if Xu's report was to be believed, all the SeeDs were busy fending off the Galbadians.

The five of them squeezed into the elevator and watched cactaur vanish back into the ether as the doors closed, nipping Raijin's rear end between them.

"What did you two do?" Seifer demanded. "Puberty Boy's on the fucking war path!"

Hyperion was treacherously close to skewering Quistis in the side as he surveyed her with a judgmental glare. She elbowed him in the ribs, trying to get some space. "We didn't do anything."

"Right. Garden just left you in...what was it? Trabia? And Squall wants to kill you. But you didn't do anything?"

The lights above their heads indicated they were nearing the ground floor.

"We need to get to the garage. There should be a few dry docked vessels there."

"What? Now that we're here, we're going to leave? And by the way, thanks a lot for just leaving us to die in the Training Center, you know. Your stupid cowboy friend just about gave me a second asshole back there."

"Seifer!" Quistis wasn't sure how much more she could take. "Just...shut up!"

The elevator doors opened on the ground floor to pure pandemonium. Galbadian soldiers dressed in blue and red rushed past, being pursued by a group of SeeDs who were sending fireballs at them from the other side of the Garden directory. They had to duck under friendly fire as they spilled out of the elevator. The air smelled crisp with fire and ozone, heavy and thick with magic.

"It's Seifer Almasy!" someone shouted.

They sprinted together down the stairs, and someone managed to nail Raijin with a thunderbolt. Raijin growled with the swift power surge that Quetzalcoatl sent raging through his body. Galbadians were everywhere, crawling out of every nook and cranny like maggots on a carcass. On her way past a Galbadian field commander, Quistis swung Save the Queen out and around his neck, pulling him over backwards with a crack and into his lieutenant. It broke her heart to leave Garden at a time like this, but Squall wouldn't be stuck on the third floor for long. And Rinoa was...Quistis stomach rolled. _Rinoa wasn't herself._

They careened around the corner and into the hallway leading to the parking garage. A Galbadian jumped out at them when they came through the door, and Fujin heaved her pinwheel at him, catching him hard in the chest and sending up a spray of blood that splattered the large fern in the corner.

"Why are the Galbadians here?" Zell asked as they slammed the parking garage door behind them and barricaded it with steel pipes.

"I don't know. It sounds like they just arrived. It doesn't make sense."

"And Squall..." Zell was sweating and had to wipe his hand across his face. "I can't believe it."

There was only one sea vessel dry docked in the garage, and they had to push it by hand on its rollers over to the dark blue moon pool they'd had installed at Fisherman's Horizon only three months before. Normally, they moved watercraft electronically, but Garden had gone into lock down the minute Squall issued the warning over the intercom. No one was supposed to be able to get in or out.

"Was Irvine okay?" Quistis asked as they strained against the side of the fish-shaped craft.

"Irvine?"

"The cowboy. He was alright, wasn't he?"

"Sure. Raij gave him a fat lip though."

"He was shootin' at me, ya know?" Raijin grunted.

The vessel crashed into the moon pool, splashing half a foot of water up over Quistis' feet. Behind them, someone started banging on the door, rattling the steel pipe barricade. There were thumps and explosions all around them as the Galbadians were being driven back. Out in the hallway, a clap of thunder sounded that shook the floor and ceased the incessant harassing of the entryway.

Fishing her ID from her pocket, Quistis slipped into the water and up to the closed hatch. It was breathtakingly cold and her heavy, waterlogged boots almost drug her under. But she surfaced long enough to slide her ID through the slot by the door and punch in her pin number to open the hatch, which hissed open above her. Another thing they should have been able to do electronically.

"Do you know how to drive this thing?" Seifer asked, squatting down to look at her in the water as he crossed into the vessel.

"Zell does." She held a hand out so he could pull her up, but he didn't. Instead he stood and shook his head.

"Instructor, women can't drive. Gotta have someone with balls like you or me to do that."

"Seifer...damn it." She slipped under enough to get a mouthful of salt.

Zell was the one to crouch on the landing and help her up. She flopped into the ship like a wet, very angry fish, the taste of the sea still stinging the inside of her mouth. Already seated and stretched out lazily across the bench seat, Seifer took one look at her and laughed. The sound, grating and raw, made something deep in Quistis' gut snap, releasing a flood of hostility and frustration. She ripped off one of her soggy boots and heaved it with a low grunt right at Seifer's head. It spiraled, sending a spray of water across the walls, and hit him hard in the arm, leaving a red, damp welt behind. He stared at her, his mouth open a little. She didn't even hear Zell close the hatch behind her and start up the engine as she hobbled over to him to retrieve her boot.

"That's no way to treat someone who saved your life, Instructor."

"If you hadn't, I swear I'd strangle you to death right here, right now."

He grinned. "Please do."

She lost her balance as Zell spiraled their craft down into the water, out and away from the embattled Balamb Garden, and landed battered and bruised on the floor at Seifer's feet.

"You know what I think," he leaned toward her, one hand rubbing his arm where her boot had hit. "I think you're just sore that Puberty Boy has abandoned you. That your precious Garden doesn't want you anymore."

She closed her eyes. He didn't know the half of it.


	9. A Plan for the Hopeless

A/N: To Kristine, who came out of life-long lurkerdom to leave me a beautiful review that totally made my day...thank you! It's always wonderful to hear that other people are out there, living this story with me. Writing is one of my greatest passions in life. It's a miracle of the internet that I can share it with all of you. Much love!

Chapter 8: A Plan for the Hopeless

Quistis sat down as far away from Seifer as possible in the small ship and peeled off what wet clothing she could, but the seat under her quickly grew cold and clammy and she was forced to move closer to him. They refused to look at one another, Seifer petulantly nursing his arm, and Quistis hanging onto her still humming anger as a source of warmth and adrenaline. She was half afraid that if it wore off, she'd begin to feel the pain in her side and the horror in her heart. Squall had always been such a level-headed man, the sort of person who had to be pushed into feeling anything other than boredom. And of all the futures she'd imagined, being enemies with Squall Leonhart and allies with Seifer Almasy had never even entered into the realm of possibility.

But here she sat, thrown from the only place she'd ever felt at ease calling home, stuffed into a tiny ship with three former adversaries and Zell Dincht. Hopelessness threatened to overwhelm her when she thought about it.

She wanted to cry, but she didn't want Seifer to see.

Zell piloted their ship to a comfortable distance from the battle, and then turned it around so that they could see the hulking form of Balamb Garden sitting dead in the water, surrounded by three Galbadian war ships. In tense, aching silence they watched smoke rise in twin, billowing columns from the quad and the second floor deck. It gathered in the sky around the ships, creating an ashen cloud that settled like a bad omen on top of the warm sea breezes.

"LOOK!" Fujin shattered the silence when one of the Galbadian ships turned and fled.

"Yes! They're winning!" Zell pumped a fist in the air.

Half an hour later, the other two fled as well; and, satisfied that Balamb Garden was still intact, Zell finally pointed the ship back toward Dollet.

Quistis was moving across the bench seat again as it grew too wet underneath her to tolerate when Zell finally said what was on everyone's mind: "I don't get it. Why'd Squall attack us? And why'd Galbadia attack Garden?"

"Good question..." Seifer grumbled. "Sorta getting the feeling you two didn't tell us everything." Raijin and Fujin nodded and chimed in with their agreement.

"Well, obviously Galbadia wasn't in control of Balamb Garden when it left us in Trabia." Quistis felt sick just saying it. "So, Squall must have issued the order. He's the only one besides Cid who could have done it."

"Yeah. So what'd you two do to piss Puberty Boy off?"

"Nothing."

Seifer arched a doubtful eyebrow.

"Really. Nothing. It's got to be something else."

Zell shook his head. "No way. Can't be. I mean...its Squall and Rinoa, right? And they didn't look...you know...possessed or anything."

"Possessed? Seifer got to his feet at the word.

"That wasn't the Rinoa I know. Or the Squall..." Quistis said.

"Wait a second. Go back to this _possessed_ thing," Seifer said. "Who could possess Rinoa? I thought you guys killed..."

"We did." Zell narrowed his eyes at the other man as if saying_ no thanks to you_.

"I think maybe Dr. Odine was right." Quistis tried to ignore the flames of hostility leaping between Seifer and Zell.

"No. There must be some other sorceress somewhere. One we didn't know about," Zell insisted.

"Alright," Seifer flopped back into his seat. "Time one of you spilled the damn beans. Dr. Odine? Sorceresses?"

Quistis explained the best she could. "Dr. Odine has a theory about sorceresses." She was close enough now to see Seifer flinch at the word. "According to legend, they're all supposed to have a piece of Hyne's power. And when they die, they pass it on. In Esthar, they've dug up some old tablets that say when all the pieces come together in one person, when there's only one sorceress left, Hyne will come back. And Dr. Odine thinks that's happening right now with Rinoa."

"I didn't see Rinoa," Raijin said. "Just Squall. And he's not a sorceress, ya know?"

"No. He's her knight." Quistis couldn't resist looking over at Seifer to see how he was reacting, but he'd turned his face away.

"So you think he's protecting her?" Raijin asked. "And Rinoa's...uh...Hyne?"

Quistis frowned. It sounded so crazy outside of her head.

"FUTILE."

"Yeah. No way anyone could beat something like Hyne, ya know?"

"It doesn't matter. We'd have to get past Squall just to get to her. And nobody can beat him," Quistis replied.

"Uh...hello?" Seifer waved a hand. "I can."

Zell dissolved into laughter. "You? Then why'd we wipe the floor with you three times, huh?"

"Oh yeah. Three against one are really fair odds. I could take him one on one."

"He beat you one on one at the parade in Deling City," Quistis pointed out, though in her head she was recalling the sound of Hyperion and Lionheart grinding together and the muscle bunching in Seifer's arms as he met Squall's attack in the headmaster's office. Was it possible? Could he counter Squall just long enough for them to get to Rinoa?

Seifer glared at her. "That was a fluke. And speaking of Deling City...what's Galbadia got to do with all this?"

"Dr. Odine has been working with the Galbadians to translate the tablets in hopes of finding a weapon to combat Hyne. We were exploring a tomb in the Trabian Crater when Garden left that they thought was the burial place of Hyne's half body."

"Was there anything there?" Raijin asked.

"Yeah. But not a weapon," Zell replied. "I still don't see though why they attacked Garden like that. What were they trying to do? Just kill Rinoa outright?"

"Maybe." Quistis sighed and let her head fall back against the wall. "Maybe when they heard that we didn't find anything in the crater they thought it was better to be safe than sorry."

Zell leaned forward, propping himself up with his elbows against his knees. "I don't want Rinoa to die...or Squall."

Quistis's body was beginning to slow down and trying to come to grips simultaneously with the second coming of Hyne and the possibility that she might have to kill a man she looked at as a brother was straining her sanity. She'd already snapped once and struck out at Seifer, which she was slowly beginning to feel sorry for. Right now she needed time and space to think, to reorder how she looked at the world. "Let's just take this one step at a time," she said. "Let's not think about..._that_ yet."

"So what's the first step?" Zell asked.

A dozen possibilities occurred to her, and she settled on the only one that didn't leave her feeling bleak. "We'll meet back up with Captain Colburn to collect our things, and then we'll go back to Esthar to meet with Laguna and Dr. Odine."

There mere presence of a plan eased the despair from Zell's face. "Right! To the _Black Mage_!"

0 0 0

On board a speeding train wasn't the best of all possible places to shave, but Jack Krier was making it work. The mirror was flopping against the red, velvet walls of his presidential car and the swirl of white foam in his left hand was vibrating as his right moved the razor with exaggerated delicacy. He refused to walk into a meeting looking like he'd been up half the night (incidentally, he had) and he was just as reluctant to go into a meeting nursing shaving knicks. Power was all about appearances.

He was rinsing his face with a warm washcloth and feeling quite pleased with himself when someone knocked lightly on his door.

"Yes? What is it?" He toweled off and set everything aside for his assistant to dispose of when she next came through the car.

A soldier in a red uniform walked in and saluted. "News from Admiral Zahn, Sir."

"Excellent. What's the word?"

The soldier hesitated. _Not good._

"Heavy casualties. They were forced to retreat and are on their way home now."

"Did they achieve the objective?"

"No, Sir."

"Did Admiral Zahn happen to mention why?"

"The...uh...casualties, Sir, I would presume."

Krier sent the soldier a withering look as he buttoned up his crisp, white shirt to the throat and tied his wine-red tie. "Did Balamb Garden repel the attack from Esthar as well?"

"According to Admiral Zahn, there was no attack by Esthar. It was just us, Sir."

"Hmmm..." He tightened his tie. "Thank you. You're dismissed."

The soldier scuttled into the next car, leaving Krier to ponder the news. Odine had clearly indicated over the phone that he had men pursuing Garden as well. The scientist had never flinched at using Esthar's military for his own purposes in the past; although, there was a chance he was still attempting to conduct a subtle operation.

Out the train window, Krier could see the twisted, red and black shadow of Galbadia Garden through the hills. The academy was surrounded on three sides by mountains, on another by the sea. SeeDs were suspicious creatures by nature, and none were more so than the Galbadian variety. When the train stopped just inside the valley, a black sedan flanked by boxy, yellow cars was waiting to transport him the rest of the way across the broad, flat desert to the Garden's gate. He had to admire the set up. No one approached this facility without being noticed. And so, predictably, President Krier drew a fair share of attention as his motorcade stopped and he was escorted inside by a pretty, young SeeD.

"The headmaster will be with you shortly, Sir." She waved him into a conference room on the second floor and closed the door on the heaving throng of young cadet faces that swam behind her. The quiet room was a relief after the train, cars, and phone calls. Krier seized the moment as a rare opportunity to sit down and actually relax. He was just falling into it, heart rate slowing and muscles easing, when Headmaster Martine entered the room wearing the long, dark blue coat that appeared to be his official, formal attire.

"Good afternoon, Sir. I have to admit, I was surprised you wanted to see me so quickly. Took a bit of last minute rescheduling." Krier knew what he was trying to say, _I'm busy. I'm important. Don't push me around._ "What can I do for you?"

"I have a job for a few of your best SeeDs."

"You do? That's...unusual."

The last time the government and Garden had worked together had been under the sorceress, and neither side had been willing to relieve that memory since. They kept their distance whenever possible and almost never interacted publicly.

"This is an off the books mission."

"I see." Martine liked those kinds of missions. "You know I'll do whatever I can to help you. What is it that you need?"

"Two prisoners extracted from Trabia Garden."

"You...what...?" Martine blanched. "But, we've got a neutrality agreement with Trabia Garden."

"I realize that. But this can't be done through usual government channels. Diplomacy has failed, and I can't risk a war with Esthar. It would be easy for a few SeeDs to accomplish. They'd probably welcome you in."

"Yes, well, I can't risk any more inter-Garden conflict, you see? We're still mending fences from the _last time_."

Krier was well aware that Galbadia Garden had sword a non-aggression pact with the other two academies. And he knew that Martine would be hesitant to take the risk of alienating them. But he also was keenly aware of the fact that Martine was a man of great ambition and little discipline, that he needed to sit firmly on the coat tails of friends in high places to retain his position of power. He'd been perched on Krier's like a lead brick for the past year.

"Have you forgotten your time on the docks in Fisherman's Horizon, Martine?" Krier asked quietly. "Ah...yes. I didn't think you had. Remember that you are only in a position to deny me this small request because I put you there. And I can put you right back on those docks, _Headmaster_."

Martine crossed his arms. "Two prisoners, you say?" That's all?"

"Yes. They have information I need."

"Are they under heavy guard?"

"Probably not. Trabia Garden isn't equipped to handle prisoners."

"Well then...I think I could probably find a couple of SeeDs to take on the case," Martine said as if the decision were trivial.

Krier ran his thumb along the smooth line of his jaw to hide a smile. "I thought you might."

0 0 0

By mid-afternoon, they had caught up to the _Black Mage_. Released from the cramped quarters of the Garden ship, the deck of the schooner felt like satisfying breath of fresh air, and everyone quickly went their own way. Zell and Raijin vanished into one of the cabins, following the scent of cooking pasta and the sound of flatware scraping against hard, plastic plates. Fujin hesitated, and then trailed after the magnetic draw of happiness and contentment into the cabin as well. Instructor Trepe took one look at the company she was left with and stormed off to change out of her still wet jeans, leaving Seifer by the rail.

_Well fuck you, too._ At least now he could be alone, which was certainly preferable to spending more time around the instructor.

He sat down and propped Hyperion across his lap.

"Hey. Seifer."

Well...almost alone.

"You guys came back awful fast," Captain Colburn said as he approached. He stopped, seeing Seifer's gunblade, and his eyes grew wide. Maybe he was realizing for the first time just who he'd hired. Or maybe he'd never seen a real weapon before. "Did you...uh...I mean, did it go well?"

"Not really."

"Oh. We saw those Galbadian ships on the way out. They looked pretty serious. And I know you're probably not going to tell me, it being SeeD business and all, but if there's some sort of war brewing..."

"I'm not a SeeD," Seifer said.

"Yeah. I know. You're..."

"Something better. A free man. A soldier of fortune."

"Right." The captain smiled a little. "All I really wanted to know was..._you know_. Dollet. It's safe, right?"

"Who knows? I guess so." If what Trepe and the Wuss were saying could be believed, Dollet along with every other town on the planet was in some serious trouble. "Anyway, me and Raij and Fu will be around to protect it. And we don't go down without one hell of a fight." He liked that idea, meeting his death in brilliant glory atop the cliffs of Dollet where everyone could see. He'd be their hero.

"The _Black Mage_'ll be here whenever you need it. And she hates Galbadians, you know." Captain Colburn puffed with patriotic pride and waddled away still bloated with it.

Seifer didn't put much stock in the offer. Once the shadow of the Galbadian navy passed from the captain's mind, he'd likely forget all of his present goodwill. And he didn't have money like Instructor Trepe to throw around. In any case, he didn't need a boat to fight off a few monsters at the end of the world, just an audience and the chance that someday he'd be remembered. It was a new dream to replace the old one that had fizzled -- not that it hadn't been glorious in its own time. He still remembered fondly the parade filled with the concussions of fireworks and the roar of the crowd. But he was a little less able to recall Galbadia Garden, and could hardly dredge up a memory of the Lunatic Pandora.

As the captain wandered away, back to lunch, Seifer turned his attention back to his gunblade. Hyperion. It had been almost two years since he'd used it. It had been longer than that since he'd felt it throw back the advance of another gunblade. Fresh from battle again, it felt light in his hand.

Quistis Trepe emerged from one of the cabins still running her hands through her hair. She'd changed into her SeeD uniform and was carrying a wad of clothes tucked under her arm. Of all the people to be stuck with, he still couldn't believe it was Zell Dincht, everyone's favorite punching bag, and the all-around mediocre Instructor Trepe. He remembered having classes with her when they were both cadets where she'd been smart, but not exactly exceptional. At least, nothing like he'd been at the time. Still, she'd made SeeD at fifteen and everyone suddenly became a fan. He'd gotten so tired of hearing about her from the damn Trepies that he'd beaten a few of them up. And he was sure to corner a few more and show them just how good a soldier he could be when she became his instructor.

Life just wasn't fair.

"Hey..." She was walking toward him. _Great_. "I just wanted to say sorry. For the boot."

"Uh...okay."

He expected her to leave, but she continued to stand there and look at him.

"Does your arm hurt?" she asked.

"Well, yeah. You hit me at point blank range."

"I'm sorry."

Seifer waited, but she still didn't leave. _My God. What the hell does this woman want from me?_

"It was just a lot to take in, I guess. I was pretty upset over Garden...and Squall, like you said. But I know I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

He nodded. Sure. That sounded about right.

"Anyway...like I said...sorry."

Still, she stood there, _looking_ at him. She'd apologized three times already. What else did she have to say? What did she want _him_ to say? He didn't have anything to say he was sorry for. Maybe accidentally summoning cactaur, but he was pretty sure she didn't realize that had been a mistake. And he wasn't about to let her know.

"Look," she sat down next to him and crossed her arms. "Don't you know how this works? You're _supposed_ to forgive me." She sighed a long, feathery breath like she'd had this master plan and he'd somehow ruined it all.

"Why?" _Maybe I don't forgive you._

"Because...because it's polite! Someone sucks it up, comes to you, and bears a little bit of their soul like that, and you forgive them."

"What difference should it make to you whether I do or not?" They'd been at odds for a long time, since they'd been cadets, and his animosity had never bothered her before.

"I recognize that we got off to a bad start. Somehow. But if we're going to work together, we've got to at least be civil. So I just thought it would be easier if we started fresh again."

"Work together?" He turned slowly to look at her and laughed at the way her mouth fell open. "You're giving up the plush SeeD life to fish? The sea calling to you, Instructor? Or the sailors, maybe?"

"You're not coming to Esthar with us?"

He shrugged non-commitally. _Not unless you ask me to._

"What happened to being the only one who could fight Squall? What happened to the Seifer Almasy who craved action, who couldn't stop jumping into trouble long enough to pass a field exam?" He liked the way her cheeks flushed when she yelled at him like this. It was familiar and comfortable. He knew where she stood when she was angry.

"Oh. You know. He's still around, but he's busy. Lots of demands on his time."

Her hands tightened into fists against her knees. "You _know_ we need you for this. You and Squall were the two most gifted students in Garden. And now he's become..._Squall._ And if he's really on the wrong side here, we're going to need you on ours."

It was the sort of recognition Seifer hadn't received in years, and it made his blood boil.

"So you _do_ think I can defeat him?"

He could tell she didn't want to say it. She'd never really believed he been anything but a fuck up. As a teenager, he'd always been the superior warrior to Squall. He had the passion and the fire where Squall had been nothing but passive and indifferent. And it was something Quistis Trepe had never seen, or maybe had chosen to ignore. It gave him a thrill now making her say it, even if she didn't believe it.

"You have the best chance against him," she finally said.

_Close enough._ He stretched out and ran a finger up the length of Hyperion, highlighting the weapon's strong lines to himself.

"Gee, Instructor. Never knew you harbored such kind thoughts about me."

"It's not from lack of talent that you've ended up here. You could be where Squall is now, if you'd chosen right," she replied. That unsolicited statement surprised him. He eyed her, expecting some sarcastic grin, but she seemed perfectly serious and the look of sincerity she gave him made him uneasy.

"Yeah. If you say so. I'll forgive you now, if it'll make you go away."

"I don't believe you now. And anyway, you haven't said whether you're going to go with us to Esthar yet."

He sighed. "Suppose I have to. Seeing as you and Chicken Wuss'd just get your asses kicked."

"Great. I'll get the others and we can leave."

After patting him on the shoulder with a hesitant hand, she stood up and walked away. He watched her go, noticing how the familiarity of her black and gold SeeD uniform made it feel like nothing had changed in three years. Only his sore arm, civilian clothing, and the irritating presence of cactaur in his mind reminded him that things had changed very much. More than he'd thought, it seemed. The second coming of Hyne? He didn't know if he believed it yet. But something in the back of his mind said that it was a valid threat -- some half forgotten shadow that the guardian force was feeding upon.

He avoided going into the cabin where everyone else was in the middle of lunch. He didn't want to see his old ship mates from the _Black Mage_ again. He wasn't one of them anymore. As jobs went, commercial fishing was always a dangerous and only sometimes a lucrative profession. Most of his sailing companions were criminals hiding from people who wanted their money or their blood. Even he had initially taken the job to get away from towns while Ultimecia had still been fresh in people's minds. But neither the money nor the isolation made the storms, stench, or icy sea waves any more palatable. Not nearly as much as steel and hot blood, anyway.

"So, you're gonna try being on the _right_ side for once?" Zell asked as they left the _Black Mage_.

"You take shit way to personal, Dincht."

"Yeah, well, forgive me if someone going traitor on me isn't a little bit personal."

_Traitor?_ He couldn't recall any point and time he'd actually betrayed them.

"Let it go, Zell," Instructor Trepe advised. "We're going to all try to get along for a while."

On the way back to Dollet, Zell radioed someone in Esthar to arrange for a ship to pick them up. Seifer still wasn't certain that traveling to Esthar was the way to go, this Odine character didn't sound like he was exactly trustworthy. Rinoa had been the only sorceress left for over two years and he'd said nothing to anyone about the possibility that something bad might happen. Why now? And if he really knew so much about this second coming of Hyne thing, why didn't he have a solution? Plus, the name of the president sounded kind of familiar. Laguna Loire? He'd heard it somewhere before.

They had two hours before the airship from Esthar would even arrive, so Seifer went back home with his posse to collect some items for the road. He tossed a few changes of clothes into a duffel bag and dug to the back of his closet to retrieve an old, faded friend. The gray coat was stiff with lack of wear but softened easily in his hands. In the privacy of his bedroom, he slipped it back on and closed his eyes with the fluid way it fell around his shoulders. He'd missed this. He hadn't even realized how much.

The coat was the same, the gunblade untouched by time, and the exhilaration was as fresh as the day he set off toward Timber, but the man he saw in his bathroom mirror had changed -- not quite as fit, just a little less cocky, and half as well kempt.

He scowled and ran a hand through his hair. Had he really let it get this bad?

He tossed the coat onto his bed, put Hyperion to rest in its case, and then yelled as he passed down the stairs, "Hey! Raijin!"

"Yeah?" Raijin's head poked out of his room.

"I'm going out for a few minutes. Don't let the Instructor leave without me or anything."

With a few gil stuffed into his pockets, he jogged down the street and into a barber shop. The barber, a middle-aged woman, stopped in the middle of sweeping the floor to stare when he burst through the door, ringing a string of sleigh bells hanging from the handle. The shop had been redecorated since he'd last been in and the barber muttered something about split ends when she sat him down and ran her hands through his hair. As a fisherman, there'd been no reason for him to take care of his appearance. But a hero needed to be coiffed. A hero needed to look like someone people could respect.

The barber smoothed warm shaving cream across his face and flicked clods of beard into the sink with her razor. He watched in the mirror as the last two years vanished from his face. The solid, square line of his jaw emerged in long, clean strokes -- he'd almost forgotten what it looked like. And then she combed his hair back from his forehead and trimmed it short, like he used to wear it. He felt light and free when she swung him around in the chair to inspect her work.

"Happy?" she asked.

"Very. What do I owe you?"

"Considering the amount of hair...twenty gil."

It seemed steep, but Seifer paid it anyway and jogged back to the house, hoping to arrive before Zell or Instructor Trepe. But as he walked through the front door, he could clearly hear the tapping of an irritated boot on the kitchen tile.

"Is that you, Seifer? You can't just go off like that. We've been...oh!" Instructor Trepe stormed out to meet him but stopped dead in her tracks, her blue eyes wide. "You...uh..."

"Went to get a hair cut. Did I need to ask permission?"

"No!" A pale blush flashed across her face. "Of course not."

They stood in silence, looking at one another, the instructor blocking his route up the stairs.

"So, do I need to apologize or forgive you or something?"

"Huh? No. Just...be ready to go on time. Okay?"

Seifer would have liked to ask what her problem was, but she retreated back into the kitchen, and he was happy to get out of the odd conflict without having to go to bat with the woman again. Up in his room, he delicately folded his coat into the top of his duffel.

Despite Trepe's warning, only Seifer and Zell were actually ready to leave on time. Raijin got stuck on the phone with his boss at the restaurant, trying to explain in his rapid fire sentences to the twenty two year old manager why he was leaving on a SeeD mission, despite the fact that he was neither a SeeD or actually employed by Garden. Eventually, when the man threatened to fire him, Raijin went with glassy, puppy eyes to Zell who used his celebrity status to quickly clear up the misunderstanding.

Trepe and Fujin were the last to come down the stairs, both carrying duffel bags with straining zippers. Trepe was in a new outfit, something she'd bought while Seifer was getting his hair cut to replace her otherwise wet and fatally dusty clothing.

"Man, Quistis. It's about time," Zell said.

"We're not late. We can still make it." She heaved her duffel higher on her shoulder and walked right out the door, leaving the rest of them to follow in her wake.

They walked out of town and up the road to the train station. Waiting in the grass between the empty, asphalt train platform and the high, rocky plateau that surrounded Dollet was a gleaming red dragon, claws embedded in the earth and wings stretched out behind it, covering the giant engines that were still steaming. It made a rush of excitement race through Seifer's veins. Now _this_ was a ship!

A tall, lean man dressed in white robes approached them and bowed his head.

"Good to see you, Quistis. And you, too, Zell."

"Kiros!" She seemed pleased. "I can't believe they sent _you_ to come get us. I'm so sorry if this was an inconvenience to you at all."

"Oh no. Everyone's waiting for you in Esthar. Laguna's eager for news, and Dr. Odine hasn't left the presidential palace since you radioed in."

"Who is this clown, Odine, anyway?" Seifer asked as they climbed the ramp into the belly of the beast.

"You'd know if you ever bothered to open one of your textbooks and actually read it," the instructor replied. "Dr. Odine is the leading expert on sorceresses. He invented para-magic and personally developed the junction system to use guardian forces in battle. He's a remarkable man, if not a bit eccentric. I'm surprised you didn't hear about him even outside of school."

The name, like the President's, did sound slightly familiar. But Seifer shrugged it off. Contrary to popular belief, he had read his assignments once and a while, especially when he'd been young and needed an edge on his classmates. Maybe there'd been some stray reference somewhere, probably in a picture caption.

The ship took off with a blast and a groan, rocketing them up and away until Dollet vanished under a haze of clouds and they popped out on top of them, into the brilliant sun of the upper atmosphere. He'd never really flown before and spent much of the trip peering out the window at the patches of earth and sea drifting by below. It was one hell of a way to travel. He wasn't sure he'd be able to go back to cars, trains, and ships knowing that this was an option. The impressive ship made him curious about the city that had built it. He'd heard things about Esthar, the forbidden city beyond the salt flats, but he'd never been there. And he was unprepared when it manifested on the horizon, a writhing shell of red, yellow, and blue lights, encircled by a high, honeycombed wall as thin as spider's silk.

It made Deling City look like the suburbs.

"How could anybody live in a city like this?" Raijin asked. "I'd get lost all the time, ya know?"

"You do get lost a lot. Or, at least, I do," Instructor Trepe replied with a laugh.

They touched down at the air station and rode on a precarious circular seat through a set of blue tubes to the Presidential Palace. The six of them didn't all fit on one lift, and they had to break up into two groups: Zell, Raijin, and Fujin on one; Seifer, Instructor Trepe, and Kiros on another. The temptation to reach out and poke the gauzy field that bubbled around their lift was intense. He put a hand on top of Hyperion and titled it along his hip until the end was close...one small jostle and it would break through the barrier, the whole thing would rupture like a balloon. Or would it stretch like elastic? Everything in Esthar seemed oddly pliable, made of organics like hardened resins that gave the streets the same sticky luster of a lollipop. He found it hard to imagine the sorceress Adel patrolling these candy streets or sitting hunched over on one of these lifts.

The presidential palace was no less impressive and was built on a similar scale as the city, taking up an entire block with three separate lift exits near its door. Fujin, Raijin, and Zell were already there, talking to a petite woman in a blue dress. When she spotted them getting off their lift, she rose up on her heels and waved.

"Quisty!" The woman pulled Trepe into a hug. The instructor certainly got around; she seemed to have friends everywhere. "Zell just gave me the news. Oh...poor uncle Laguna! He's been so worried about Squall, and that awful Dr. Odine has been hanging around. This isn't going to be easy for him to hear. I think it will just confirm his worst fear."

"Don't worry, Ellone. We're not about to let anything happen to Squall. Or Rinoa," the instructor reassured the troubled woman. They let each other go, and the woman's dark eyes shifted to Seifer and stopped.

"Seifer...I didn't expect to see you here." She reached out and grabbed his hand, her palm pressing warm and firm against his as she pulled him closer. He didn't know what to do when she stood right at his toes and looked up at him, her brown hair sweeping across her face in the breeze. Why did that seem so familiar? The sensation was getting tiring, constantly feeling like a thought was at the front of his brain only to have it flit away. "It's good to see you," she said quietly. "Really."

"Do I know you?" he asked, unnerved by her affection.

"You used to. Once upon a time." She dropped his hand and turned to the rest of the group. "Come on. I'll take you inside."

Another lift took them into the palace and dropped them off in a hallway with heavy red carpets and the clean scent of fresh cut flowers. Hand painted portraits of the city set in cumbersome, gold frames decorated the walls. Seifer trailed behind the rest of the group, the long-standing rivalry between Galbadia and Esthar suddenly making sense to him. This entire country was wealthy in an off-hand sort of way whereas Galbadia's social hierarchy was strict and intense, an overwhelmingly dirty and poor place compared to this closed society.

"Quistis! Zell! I'm glad you're safe!" Laguna Loire, the president of Galbadia, stood up behind his desk when they walked in. "Is Squall okay? Is he safe?"

"He's safe. He's still in Garden..." Instructor Trepe began to explain, but Seifer's attention was riveted on the dark haired man behind the desk. He looked so very familiar...if only he wasn't wearing a half buttoned polo. Maybe something more...he scoured his mind. Shiny? And, a sword perhaps?

Abruptly it hit him.

Laguna Loire! The Sorceress' Knight!

Blurry, beautiful images from his youth flashed across his mind's eye of this man dressed head to toe in armor, fighting ruby dragons as his sorceress crouched in the background. He'd found the film in the library when he'd first arrived at Garden and had indulged in watching it over and over again when his roommate was gone, until finally it dissolved into a dream and the raven headed protagonist shifted to fiery blond. More than anyone else in the world, this man was someone Seifer had long considered a hero and role model.

So why the hell was he so concerned with Squall Leonhart? And how did Instructor Trepe know him?

He tried to imagine the two in some sort of seedy, romantic affair, but the picture wouldn't stick. Trepe was too straight laced for that sort of thing.

"I feel like we wasted these past two years," Laguna said. "After being apart for so long, I'd really hoped we could reconcile."

"You still can. We're going to find a way to save them."

"Reconcile?" Seifer asked, unable to help himself. He _had_ to know.

"Oh...sorry, I forgot to introduce you," Instructor Trepe said. "Laguna, this is Seifer, Fujin, and Raijin. They're old students of Garden. And this is Laguna Loire -- Squall's father."

Abject horror hit Seifer square in the gut, firing a crippling wave of nausea through his stomach. All of these years, the image of the man he'd always wanted to be was...Squall's father? He thought for a second he might actually topple over and just cease living. But his panic attack was interrupted by a tiny, loud figure that came barging in through the door sporting a huge, pinwheel type collar.

"I trust you believe me now?" he demanded, hands on his hips. "Your friend does not exist anymore! She iz gone. She iz Hyne now."

Obviously, the infamous Dr. Odine. He was flanked by two young men in robes.

"You have wasted much time!" Odine continued to scold them. "I must know exactly what happened. Was she completely under Hyne's control? Has she changed physically?"

"She looked just like she always does," Zell replied. "'Cept, she was kinda controlling Squall."

"Yes. He iz her knight. She will use him to protect her during the transformation while she iz weak."

"And the Galbadians attacked," Zell added. "What's with that? I thought you said you guys were working together."

"No! Not at all." Odine waved a hand dramatically. "You misunderstand. I was working with Dr. Shipey. And he has been arrested! Prezident Krier wants to kill ze sorceress before she can finish ze transformation. It may be zis hostility which has triggered Hyne to suddenly take control of ze girl."

Seifer's gaze strayed from the doctor back to Laguna, who had a troubled look on his face. He searched for some resemblance to Squall and found it in the line of their nose, the build of their jaw, the way they both stood with their feet apart and chin in one hand to think. It made Seifer feel betrayed. He wanted to stalk across the room and fling a solid punch at the older man's delicate face to punish him for creating this creature that had somehow attained everything Seifer had ever dared to dream: graced with renown the world over as a hero, now knight to the only sorceress who'd ever mattered.

"You said the tablets indicated there was some way to fight Hyne," Trepe said.

"Our translations are incomplete," Odine replied. "The weapon should have been in ze tomb. We need more information."

"So...what? More tablets?"

Odine leveled his dark, beady eyes at the entire group. "Ze tablets are useless without Dr. Shipey to read zem."

"That bastard Krier's probably using him to find some way to get to Rinoa before us!" Zell said.

"Yes! Zat iz likely!"

"So, let me get this straight." Seifer tried to recall all he'd been told in the past day and piece it all together. "This Dr. Shipey is the one who discovered that Hyne would return? And he's the one who figured the weapon to fight Hyne would be in the tomb at the crater, right?"

"And he's the only one who can read Ancient Centran," Trepe added.

"Yeah. So, we need this guy, right? Why don't we just go bust him out of jail? You guys broke out of D-District, so it can't be that hard."

"Zat is what I advized in ze first place!" Odine huffed.

Laguna crossed his arms tight across his chest and muttered, "If he can help Squall...I think you should. It's hopeless without him."

"Sounds like a plan, ya know?" Raijin said.

"I can get us in and out of any prison in Galbadia." Seifer remembered enough of them from two years ago. "As long as we can find out where this guy's being held."

"Zat is somezing I already know! And it iz not a prison, but a military base in ze desert. I vill give you ze coordinates."

Instructor Trepe looked unconvinced but turned to Laguna and shrugged. "Right now, I think this is our only course of action. Dr. Odine, you can give those coordinates to Zell. We'll leave in the morning. If there is a weapon, we need to find it fast. Let's find out what this Dr. Shipey knows...and what he's told the Galbadians."

0 0 0

Rinoa sat huddled against her bedroom wall, terror sinking hard and fast into her blood along with the darkness falling outside. She was acutely aware at the moment that despite the silence, she was not alone in the room. The tears that streamed down her cheeks out of swollen eyes were potent with despair. The hands that clutched at her knees were her own, and the hair that fell about her face was black and soft and recognizable, but the voice whispering through her head didn't belong to her. It was foreign, old, and had a hold of part of her brain that she couldn't access anymore. All she could do was sit and hope that Squall stayed on the bridge, watching over their progress around Galbadia on their way to Centra.

Even if the whole world is against you, I'll be your knight.

She remembered the affection in his face when he'd told her that at the flower field. He wouldn't abandon her, even when he needed to. Maybe that was real love. But right now, she wished the sentence would quit replaying in her head to delight the presence there.

Was this what it was like to really become a sorceress? Was this what Edea, Adel, and Ultimecia had all felt? It was like a sickness, a cancer growing within her. She half expected to feel horns sprouting from her head or heavy, black wings erupting from her back. She'd be just like them, perverted by this power that ate women alive. And she'd take Squall with her.

Don't cry, little girl.

Rinoa groaned at the way the voice rattled within her, making the insides of her skull ache.

It's the fate of all sorceresses. Don't be scared.

A soothing sensation crept across Rinoa's skin, like fingers easing the tension from her muscles and dashing the fat tears from her cheeks. She resisted the feeling, not wanting to be lulled into passivity by the evil within her. She'd fight it. She wouldn't let this destroy the man she loved.

Give in, little girl, and sleep.

Her vision blurred and her fingers eased their grip on her knees. No. She couldn't..._wouldn't_ let it bully her this way. But the presence felt her rebellion, shook off the ancient dust that muffled it, and demanded. Rinoa was overtaken, her intense fear forcibly replaced with a calm that was too easy to give in to. Exhausted, she did, and managed to shed a final tear for her poor, beautiful Squall before her head fell back against the wall and into unconsciousness.


	10. Prison Break

Chapter 9: Prison Break

"Don't look at it. It's horrible," Irvine said from behind the hand clamped over his mouth. He was lying in the infirmary, half propped up in bed on a thick stack of crunchy, white pillows, wearing a polka-dotted hospital smock and his cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes.

"Don't be silly," Selphie replied. "I've already seen it, anyway." She had her fingers wrapped around his arm and was pulling insistently on it. The battle was tearing at his much abused ribs and sending jets of pain up his side.

"Yeah. I know. But you weren't supposed to!"

"Irvy! I thought you trusted me. I'm not gonna laugh at you!"

"I do trust you." It wasn't an issue of trust. He just didn't particularly want the love of his life to see the fat, discolored lump currently masquerading as his lower lip.

"Come on," she pouted.

"No."

"I just came here to feed you your breakfast. But if you don't want me to..." She shrugged, smiled, and made as if she was going to get up and leave. _ Cruel, cruel woman._

"No! God...stay. Please?" Letting his hand fall into his lap was difficult, and his pride fought hard, but the desire to be coddled eventually overwhelmed his humility. He couldn't look her in the eye as she surveyed his disfigurement. Selphie didn't clutch her stomach and run or even shake her head with the sort of pity all people reserved for terribly ugly things; instead, she smiled and swung his breakfast tray back over the bed.

"Okay then. What first?" she asked. "Green jello? Nice, warm...uh...goop? Smells kinda chocolatey. Or an orange segment?"

Irvine considered his meager options. "Ah...sheesh...goop, I guess."

"Alright, Irvy! _Toot! Toot!_ Here comes the train!" She moved the spoon heaped with hot, cream cereal on a back and forth path up to his mouth, making little chugging noises along the way. "We are arriving at Irvine Kinneas. All passengers, please prepare to depart." It was juvenile and degrading, but Irvine loved it.

"Thanks, Sefie."

Another spoonful, and she said, "You kind of scared me yesterday."

"It's funny. Like, I don't remember much of it, right? All I remember is seeing Seifer in the Training Center."

"Turns out he was leading three whole Galbadian war ships. You should've seen it. Fighting all over Garden. There was even a fire in the quad, and another in one of the classrooms."

Irvine swallowed another offering from the spoon. "Why would Seifer want to attack us? Or the Galbadians?"

Selphie shrugged. "That's what everyone is wondering."

"What's Squall got to say about it?"

"You know Squall." Selphie snickered. "_Whatever!_ He seems sorta convinced they were after Rinoa though. And speaking of Rinoa, I've still got Angelo in my room. When I asked Squall about her, he gave me this look that could have killed an anacondor. I wanted to ask him where we're going, too. But after that look, I didn't dare."

Irvine was having trouble clearly processing the information Selphie was giving him. She had switched to orange segments, popping each one into his mouth with her fingers, and he was quickly melting, dripping off his bones like a choice cut of meat.

"Is everyone okay?" he asked.

"Sure. Mostly. Bumps and bruises and burns."

"Is Quisty in the infirmary, too?"

"Quistis?"

"And Zell. They were in the Training Center, too. Quistis stepped in poop."

"Then she's probably soaking her foot in bleach. And Zell's probably where he always is -- the cafeteria. I haven't seen them."

"Oh." The word came out all breathy. With the tart juices of the orange flooding his mouth, and the feel of Selphie's small, nimble fingers brushing his upper lip, he couldn't help it.

"Irvy?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you on drugs? Like, did Dr. Kadowaki give you some pills?" she asked.

"No."

"You're all glassy eyed."

"Just for you, babe," he said and winked. The pretty blush from the Training Center returned to her face.

"I'm being serious."

He grinned, though he thought it probably looked more like an open-mouthed slobber. "Yeah. So am I." She blushed a deeper shade of red and pushed another orange segment into his mouth before he could say more. Someday, he decided, he'd have to thank Seifer Almasy for this shameful moment.

0 0 0

Coarse and hot, the desert sands were working their way through the fiber of Quistis's shirt to grate across her stomach and scour the flesh from her elbows. Still, the desert itself was only half as irritating as the potent combination of Seifer and Zell, who were lying on either side of her, arguing over the small of her back about the second pair of binoculars.

"Laguna sent them along for _me_!" Zell hissed.

"Like hell he did! You don't even know what you're looking for anyway, Chicken Wuss!"

"Oh yeah? And what are you looking for? Some sorce--"

"_Don't_ you say it, Dincht!"

"It's no surprise you're familiar with prisons." Zell was slowly climbing over Quistis's rear in his haste to get in his adversary's face. Or maybe Seifer was pulling him across the line in a game of binocular tug-of-war. Either way, Quistis didn't appreciate being caught in the middle.

"Stay down," she scolded and shoved Zell off her. "Don't you two know anything about recon? It won't do us any good if they catch us up here!"

"Then tell the Wuss to give me my damn binoculars."

"They're _mine_!"

Quistis growled, rolled over onto her back, and wrapped a hand around the contested object. "If they're anybody's, they're mine! And if you two can't get along, then nobody can have them!"

Zell gasped. "That's not fair!"

"Aw, quit being such a baby," Seifer sneered. Then, quietly, as if not sure why, he taunted, "_Cry baby, Zell!_"

"You bastard!"

Zell maintained his grip on the binoculars with one hand and grabbed a thick fistful of Seifer's hair with the other. From her vantage point, Quistis saw the muscles in Zell's forearm bunch and a few strands of golden, blond hair tear loose as he forced the other man's head down hard into the sand. Seifer choked on the dust and scrambled for purchase, grabbing and pulling at anything he could reach while Zell continued to smother him. As he worked his head free, thanks in part to his newly shorn locks, he managed to snag a grip on Zell's shirt and pulled him over top of Quistis who, despite her best efforts to maintain the peace, was now inescapably at the epicenter of a scrambling brawl. Fists were flying. Sand was spraying off of Seifer and into her eyes. Someone elbowed her hard in the thigh, eliciting a squeal of pain. (Probably Zell, she thought. The man had elbows like ice picks.)

"Seifer! Zell!" They were jockeying for position above her, neither having let go of the binoculars. When Seifer threw a punch that missed, sending him sprawling forward, she took the opportunity to lock her arms around him, her fingers knotted in his shirt.

It was like riding a wild chocobo. Zell continued to rain down abuse, and Quistis fought hard to maintain a grip on the wild-eyed Seifer.

"Stop it! Right now!" she bellowed, kicking her feet at Zell. "Both of you! Damn it, Zell! Get _down_! Do you want those Galbadians to come up here and shoot us all for trespassing?"

The moment he snapped out of his rage, she saw the change on his face -- his lips softened and his whole complexion, from his hairline to where his chest vanished into his shirt, flushed a brilliant red.

"And these," she said, letting go of Seifer to pull the binoculars from their weakened grip, "are mine now. You've both lost your privileges. You're grown men. Act like it."

Zell flopped back onto the ground beside Quistis, turned his head away, and pouted. Seifer, though a thick coating of sand, managed to look smug.

As Quistis rolled back onto her stomach, tucking the contested binoculars under one arm, she felt a sharp pang of bitter doubt. Two years ago, it had been so easy. Under Squall's leadership, everyone did what he asked without arguments or fist fights. No one even hesitated. But on Quistis's watch, things were working out a little differently. Seifer and Zell had been a whirlwind of bloody noses and crude insults since Dollet, their battles usually punctuated by the bellows of Fujin and the inane, pro-Seifer cheerleading of Raijin. They were a far cry from the sleek fighting force Squall had commanded.

And she felt responsible for their lack of focus. The entire world was going to come to a cataclysmic end due to her poor leadership skills.

At the moment, they were lying at the crest of a high hill overlooking the Galbadian base where Dr. Shipey was being held, searching for any weakness in the perimeter defenses as Quistis casted about her mind for a plan. The base was far off the beaten path with no paved roads leading in or out, only a rutted and weather-beaten dirt path that led past numerous threatening signs featuring graphic pantomimes of two stick men shooting a third with rifles. Getting in would be difficult enough, but getting back out was what really had Quistis concerned. With no roads and no towns, they didn't have anywhere to run to once they gained possession of the professor. She'd made the decision that someone had to stay behind with the small aircraft Laguna had loaned them for the mission. It would be a fly-by rescue, and they'd pray that such an out of the way base didn't possess any anti-aircraft cannons. Mostly though, Quistis found herself hoping Fujin and Raijin would be responsible enough to show up on time. They'd been easy to select for the job (between Fujin's yelling and Raijin's bumbling, they were about as inconspicuous as a Malboro with the flu), but she still felt uneasy trusting her life to them.

Her own unease was enhanced by Zell's palpable tension.

Seifer had teased and tormented Zell for his entire life, mercilessly and without end. Now that he remembered their whole history together, he was extraordinarily volatile. The fact that Seifer had cut his hair and shaved off his beard, now looking astonishingly young, exactly like the gifted student he'd once been, hadn't helped. Nor had it made her feel any better when she set her eyes on her erstwhile ally.

Beside her, he was still spitting out sand, brushing it from his cheeks and out of his hair. It was hard to believe that any time had passed. It was hard to believe he wasn't Squall, sitting calmly in his sweet, dark leather. She missed his dogged logic and realism which calmed her nerves. Instead she sat next to this firepot of aggression and arrogance, a man who infected everyone around him with the worst kinds of passion.

He turned and looked at her, as if knowing that she was thinking about him, and smiled through the dust.

"You could slip me those when the Wuss wasn't looking..." he whispered, nudging the binoculars.

"What was that, Seifer?" Zell lifted his head and glared.

"Just complimenting the Instructor here," he said. "It's hasn't been a bad field trip, really."

"Quistis was a brilliant Instructor! Stop harassing her, already!"

Seifer paused and glanced at her again. "_Was_?"

Embarrassment splashed hot across her cheeks and stabbed deep into her chest. With trembling hands, she pressed her binoculars to her face and tried to look engrossed with the stagnant form of the base down below. _Please, Zell. Please. Don't say anymore._

"Yeah. She lost her job cuz of you, ya know!"

"What? Me? Why?"

She could feel him looking at her, but she didn't look back. _God. How humiliating_. It was like reliving the moment when Cid had told her they were revoking her instructor's license all over again. Only this time it was worse, because once Seifer knew he'd never let her forget it.

"Because you failed the SeeD exam again."

"So? How was that her fault? Nobody said anything to me that if I didn't pass she'd be fired."

"Look..." She had to clear her throat to speak in a voice that was strong. "It wasn't because of you. So let's just drop it, okay?" Even years after the fact, she was still hoping that no one would ever figure out that she'd been demoted for her extremely unprofessional behavior regarding Squall.

For a second, he looked like he wasn't going to let it go. There was some insult just sitting on the edge of his tongue, she could see it hovering there like a thundercloud. But he stopped and with a frown just said, "Alright. It's not like I care, Instr...uh...Quistis?"

He said her name as if he'd never said it before, like it was some foreign word he wasn't positive how to pronounce.

"This isn't really the best time to be catching up on old news," she reminded them. "Let's focus on how we're going to get into this base."

"Seems obvious we're not getting in as SeeDs," Seifer replied. "This place isn't really going to welcome visitors."

"I wasn't planning to just walk through the front door."

"Why not?" Zell asked. "That's what me and Selphie and Irvine did at the missile base. We got some uniforms and walked right in. Or...drove, I guess."

"That works. But then we've got to find uniforms."

There was a moment of silence before Zell suggested, "Why don't we just ambush one of their cars? They keep driving out and coming back. We could just waylay one of them on the way."

They'd been observing the base now for most of the morning and had noticed several vehicles leave only to return an hour later. Not much existed out in the desert worth visiting, so she had to assume that they were doing routine patrols or taking men out on training exercises.

"I don't know..." Quistis hemmed. "Attacking an armored car won't be easy."

"Better than sitting on top a hill all day in the heat," Seifer announced, miraculously siding with Zell. They had a strange dynamic to their relationship that Quistis couldn't even begin to unravel. She hadn't yet forgotten that in Dollet, Zell had been the one to convince him to join their quest. So it bothered her a little when they unexpectedly unified behind a plan that wasn't in any way her own.

"It'll be easy. We slip in and slip right back out. Simple."

Simple. The one word, tossed about so easily, would curse them. Quistis could not conceive of any way what they were about to do could be construed as easy, but Seifer and Zell were already flying without her, and she needed to catch up.

"Great. Let's just watch for the next car to leave, and _bam_! It's ours. We'll be in, we'll be out, and those stupid Galbadians won't even know what the hell hit them."

"Yeah!"

The two men sharpened with focus, ignorant of the woman puffing between them. Nothing to do now but go with the plan, even if it was _simplistic_.

Somehow, peace settled for the next hour as they quietly surveyed the valley, waiting for any sign of movement. Snuggled between them, Quistis was careful not to move a muscle, lest she break whatever spell had fallen. For once, the atmosphere was pleasant and filled with the fresh, vital scent of cooperation. Days worth of worry began to filter out of her system, replaced by a vague sense of hope -- maybe this really _could_ work.

"There!" Seifer suddenly said, snapping Quistis out of a long reverie she'd fallen into about her SeeD field exam.

"What?"

"A car, leaving the base."

She squinted through her binoculars, swinging them across the valley, until a green car flashed into focus, a cloud of dust beginning to funnel behind it as it sped off to the north.

"Looks like they're heading toward the cliffs," she said. "I don't know if we can beat them there. And I don't think we can risk flying over the base."

"Then let's run," Seifer suggested, pushing up off the desert floor.

"It's going to be a long jog. Think you got it in you, fisherman?" she jibed, feeling upbeat following their unexpected good behavior. He gave her a puzzled look and didn't reply.

"I friggin' hate running," Zell said. "Especially in the heat. Let's just get it over with."

They had to skirt around the base for a few miles, staying on the other side of the dunes as much as they could to avoid being detected. Loose soil ate their energy and into the second mile Zell was panting with sweat pouring down his face. He'd recover. Quistis had seen him enough times in battle to know that he only needed a few moments of rest to completely recharge. On the northern side of the base, they had to pause to get their bearings.

"That way," Quistis pointed. "See that plume of dust? I think that's them."

"Looks like a dirt devil to me," Zell gasped.

"No. I'm certain that's them. You need a break, Zell?"

"What? No! Let's go!"

Zell took off, leaving Seifer and Quistis to trail behind. She felt refreshed with hot blood and adrenaline coursing through her thighs, her lungs aching and her fingers tingling. The hard earth trail that the car had followed made their going easier and Quistis maintained a steady clip, legs pumping, hair flying. It felt good. Better than good. She was a hunter following the heady scent of fresh blood. She was _alive_.

Simultaneously, they fell to their stomachs again in the sand when the car appeared over a rise, closer than they'd anticipated. Time to sneak in for the kill.

The military car had driven up against the northern cliffs and stopped, parking so that it protected the soldiers' backs as they fought a pair of wendigos who were pummeling three blue suited men as two officers looked on from the southern side of the car, barking orders.

"If you can't beat a stupid animal, you're never going to stand up against another human being!" one of the officers roared as a wendigo broke painfully through their ranks, knocking two of the soldiers down.

"My grandma in Deling can fight these bastards! Come on!"

"Use your magic already! If fucking five year olds in Trabia can figure it out, you can, too!"

"Must be some kind of training," Quistis whispered to her companions.

"A rare chance to witness mediocrity in its infancy," Seifer whispered back. "Galbadian soldiers are expendable morons. They'll do whatever you tell them to."

Not much of a surprise, Quistis thought, that Seifer didn't understand why training soldiers to follow orders under pressure was important.

"Let's take out the officers first," Quistis suggested. "The wendigos might take care of the other three for us if we let them. And careful not to damage the uniforms. On the count of three. One...two..."

Ahead of the count, Zell and Seifer charged at the two crimson uniformed men, Hyperion blazing in the afternoon sun. Still mouthing three, Quistis followed them. Bahamut was rumbling in her head, eager to join the fray. More than any other guardian force, he delighted in battle and strength, wallowing in the glory and enhancing the body's response to danger. The adrenaline rush she felt when junctioned to him was blinding, so she nearly reached the officers before either of her companions. Without a second's hesitation, Seifer clubbed the first officer hard on the side of the head with the hilt of his gunblade, knocking the man against the car and sending a spray of bloody spittle splattering across the window. He crumpled in a daze, confused long enough for Seifer to put a hand to his forehead and send a bolt of lightning sizzling through his brain.

The other officer turned in time to see Zell approaching, but not soon enough to offer up a defense, and so stood still as Zell's shoulder crashed into his middle, throwing him back over the hood of the car with a wide-eyed grunt.

He managed to stumble back to his feet, providing Quistis with an excellent target as her vision narrowed in on his red uniform like a raging bull. She could feel Bahamut's leathery wings snapping around her, propelling her forward and rending a guttural growl from her throat. Save the Queen flew through the air, following a long arc that spiraled out of her center and wrapped around his neck, barbs like fishhooks planting into the flesh around his spinal column. For a split second, he was startled, then she planted her feet and pulled with both arms, jerking him off his feet and into the car where his head bounced off the hood. Save the Queen tore free and curled at her feet.

"Holy shit!" one of the younger soldiers yelled. He'd turned around and had a fire spell crackling in his palm. He was young, maybe only sixteen, and he didn't react immediately. The fire spell fizzled and fell to the ground where it burned out harmlessly.

One of the wendigos caught him from behind, slamming into the soldier with all the power of a loaded freight train. Quistis heard a thunderous crack as he pitched forward into the dirt. The wendigo barreled over the fallen soldier, its squinty gaze focused on her as the thick muscles in its back and shoulders bounced and twitched. She side-stepped, and the beast stumbled past, leaving a foggy trail of searing aggression in its wake.

Of all the world's monsters, wendigos were among the dumbest. So, as it ran past her and lost sight of its prey, it stopped, wide shoulders slouching forward, and sent a puzzled gaze toward the ground.

"Sleep..." Quistis murmured the word, and the spell pulsed to life around her, soothing and dark.

The wendigo faltered, fought the sensation for a moment, and then crumpled to the ground, the welts and burns on its back from fire spells still sizzling.

When all the damage was assessed, two of the soldiers proved to be dead: the officer whose neck Quistis had broken, and the young soldier who'd been run over by the wendigo. The other wendigo was stumbling blindly back toward the cliffs, a black cloud hanging persistently over its head, and the other soldiers were spread on the ground in varied states of incapacitation. Seifer and Zell looked satisfied. Even pleased.

Quistis set to work removing the dead officer's uniform. It would be a little big on her, but it was the closest fit she could find among the men. Seifer selected the other officer's uniform. And Zell was left standing with his arms crossed, looking uncertain.

"What's the matter, Chicken Wuss?"

"There's only two officers."

"Yeah. So?"

"So. What am I going to wear?"

"Why don't you wear one of theirs?" Quistis asked, motioning to the soldiers dressed in blue.

"But...they're just rank and file," Zell protested.

"It doesn't matter. It's not your rank, it's theirs. We just need to get into the base. It doesn't make any difference what uniform your wearing."

"Yeah. The more nobody gives a shit about you, the better," Seifer added.

"Then trade me."

"No! None of those are going to fit me. This guy is my size exactly."

"Quisty?" Zell sent her a pleading look. "Trade me?"

"Zell..." She didn't know how to put it politely. Zell wasn't exactly a large man. Seifer was practically a foot taller. He'd be dwarfed by the two officers' uniforms. "That one there is almost the perfect size for you."

"But he's a private! Look at him! He's got to be fourteen!"

Seifer chuckled. "Eat it, Wuss. You're too damn puny to be an officer."

Quistis stood up, ready to chastise her ex-student, when he rolled aside the half naked form of the Galbadian soldier and pulled his shirt over his head. It was an odd moment, and it caught her off guard. For a long, agonizing second, she couldn't actually see his face, just his body as his arms stretched up above his head and his torso arched forward. Even under the desert sun, she felt the warm blush that crossed her face. It embarrassed her to see him undressing, this man that had for so long hovered just outside of her thoughts and now was too obnoxiously present to ignore.

"I'm not small, damn it! I'm average! Alright?" Zell fired back, yanking his own shirt off and tossing it into the open back seat of the Galbadian car. "And success has nothing to do with size anyway. It's how hard you work."

"Yeah. I'm sure the one girl you managed to trick into screwing you probably told you that. But it's really not true, you know," Seifer replied.

Quistis turned away from both of them to undress. Why was this making her nervous?

Irritated, she pulled off her shoes and unbuttoned her pants. She wasn't the sort of person who was uncomfortable with her body. Living most of her life with a communal bathroom had put a significant dent in any sense of physical modesty she'd had when she arrived at Garden. But for some reason, she was especially aware at the moment that Seifer and Zell were men. Two men she'd never anticipated that, for any reason, she'd remove her pants in front of.

They were already zipping their uniforms up when she began wriggling into hers, and she felt both of them turn and look at her back when she pulled her shirt off.

Damn it. Have some decency and look away!

Neither of them did until she had the uniform shirt on and tucked in.

"What?" she demanded.

"Nothing!" Zell pulled his helmet on so fast it caught his ear.

Seifer was not so kind to her modesty. "We'd probably have a better chance of getting this guy off the base if you left the uniform off. Maybe there's a Trepie or two whose brains would blow out when they spot your lacy, black panties." He crossed his arms and grinned at her. "I thought all the instructors wore sports bras. Like Cid's."

Quistis glared at him. "I'm not an instructor anymore."

"Just one of the many perks of demotion, I suppose."

She sighed. "Get in the car."

"Oh no you don't." He pulled on his helmet and pointed to his collar. "If you'll notice, I'm the commanding officer here. So why don't _you_ get in the car, and I'll see what I can do about driving us back to the base."

Arguing with him over the point was useless, so Quistis got into the passenger seat and slammed the door. Zell climbed into the back, still too humiliated to look Quistis in the eye.

"You two are about the have the experience of a lifetime," Seifer said as he took his place in the driver's seat and started up the car. "You remember, Instructor? I was the best defensive driver of my year."

"Quistis," she reminded him, though she was sore over the insult. He'd beaten her on the defensive driving test by five points that year.

"Huh? Yeah. Whatever. Just buckle up."

She gripped the seat and braced. But she heard Zell yell as Seifer floored the pedal and sent them flying off the top of the nearest sand dune. As he took a sharp corner for no reason, Quistis thought that they'd be lucky not to die on route to the base. The fate of the world had never been in more reckless hands.

0 0 0

In Trabia, two SeeDs were standing at the gates to Garden, waiting for Headmaster Neko. When he arrived, he regarded them through a window of chain link.

"What's your business here?" he asked.

"We're SeeDs. We were on a mission to Shumi Village, and now we're trying to get back to our Garden. We thought it was supposed to be here."

Headmaster Neko's eyes narrowed.

"Your Balamb SeeDs?"

"Yes."

"I wasn't aware that they had anyone out on active missions."

"They must have forgotten about us. It was a small mission."

Neko stood back for a moment and looked at them: two teenaged girls, dirty and tired from a long walk across the tundra.

"How did you get here?" he finally asked.

"Got passage on a ship. We had them drop us off near here. We thought Balamb Garden would be here."

"Right. What do you need from us then?"

The two girls looked at one another. Normally, seeking shelter with another Garden was basic procedure. They never turned a SeeD away. This was getting more complicated than it should have been -- Headmaster Neko was suspicious.

"Just a place to stay for the night. We'll head out toward Balamb tomorrow."

"I'm afraid I can't give you access to our facilities," he apologized, swiping a card through a reader attached to the huge, metal doors that protected the Garden's entrance.

"That's okay. We won't need them." They both saluted as the doors slid mechanically open.

"Welcome to Trabia Garden." He smiled tightly at them, evidently uneasy. But it was unheard of for a Garden to turn a SeeD out into the cold.

"Thank you, Sir." Both girls smiled, perfect and pretty.

0 0 0

"You think they're just going to let us in?" Seifer asked, slowing the car as they approached the base. Quistis took the opportunity to work blood back into her oxygen starved fingertips.

"That's what they did before," Zell replied.

From ground level, the base looked larger than it had from the top of the hills, filling the width of their windshield. The only entrance was on the eastern wall where a small, brick kiosk with two guards inside was waiting. They were engaged in a game of Triple Triad when Seifer pulled up in their stolen vehicle.

"That was fast," one of the guards noted, holding out a hand. "Must be getting better, huh?"

Seifer looked puzzled for a moment, then handed them one of the ID cards sitting on the dash. "Hardly. Stupid shits got themselves beat half to death."

The guard swiped the ID Seifer handed him without looking at it, as if it were something that he did every day without thinking. At such an out of the way base, and during peace time, they probably didn't have much need for strict security. The only people who came and went were the ones who were supposed to be there.

"Better luck next time, I guess." The guard handed the ID back in through the window as the doors to the base began to slide open, a green light next to the right one blinking on and then back off.

Quistis held her breath as they drove through, across the threshold and into the base, the doors closing behind them. There was no going back now. They'd leave with Dr. Shipey on their Estharan ship, or they wouldn't leave at all. Inside the base, all was calm and peaceful. Only a few soldiers were milling about, some standing and talking to one another, while others were working on cars, their sleeves rolled up and arms coated in grease. Two men were out of uniform, running on a track. No one even glanced their way as Seifer parked the car.

"You'd think that after we blew up one of their bases, they'd have fixed that loophole," Zell said.

A young soldier waved at Quistis as she got out of the car.

"Where do you suppose he's at?" Zell asked in a low voice as he circled around the car toward her. The base was made up of six separate buildings, one of which was evidently a garage. The rest could be any combination of things from dormitories to missile silos.

Quistis shrugged. He could be anywhere. "Let's just start looking."

The Galbadian officer's uniform was itchy against her bare skin and stank of blood, making moving about in the warm sun uncomfortable at best and creating a sticky film of sweat around her waist where Save the Queen was wrapped like a belt, rubbing a raw trench through her stomach. As they prowled the grounds, she couldn't help but scratch and shift. Seifer had stuffed his gunblade inside of a Galbadian sword case along with their clothes and was carrying it in his right hand. It kept knocking into the back of her legs, irritating her further. So, she pulled open the door to the first large building they came across and walked inside, grateful to drink in the refrigerated air.

"Afternoon, Sir." Someone saluted Seifer as he passed by, a popsicle in one hand. "You'll have to hurry, Sir. They're almost out."

Men were piled into the mess hall, their helmets stacked by the door.

"Good. Dinner time," Quistis said. "Almost everyone will be occupied."

They passed into the next building, which consisted of an infirmary and a host of recreational facilities including an indoor swimming pool, gymnasium, and a small, cheap looking restaurant that was decorated with silk flowers and paintings of Galbadian presidents. The painting of Vinzer Deling had a special frame, draped with red velvet and showed the man in a pensive posture, his chin down and the colors washed out.

"Nobody liked the son of a bitch until he died," Seifer snorted. "Now they treat him like he was some kind of saint."

Quistis hadn't witnessed the death of Vinzer Deling personally, but she supposed that his public execution had done more for his legacy than all of his time in office. All of Deling City now recalled him only with regard to his pitiable end. They tended for forget that he was the one who had handed over the government to the sorceress in the first place.

The possibility that the entire facility consisted of anything more interesting than a second home for officers and recruits in training was fading, until Quistis spotted a short, fat building with two armed men standing outside. Unlike all the other soldiers they'd seen so far on the base enjoying their leisure time, these two were obviously employed. They gripped the assault rifles in loose, able hands and weren't speaking to one another. Finally, something worth guarding. She walked with purpose toward the two, trailing an air of confident importance.

"Stop." They moved in unison to block the door, their guns crossing one another. Under her bloody uniform, Quistis's heart quickened.

"Sorry. No unauthorized personnel are allowed in."

"What do you mean _unauthorized_?" Seifer growled, gesturing to his rank.

"Even accompanied. We can't allow it. He'll have to wait here for you."

When Quistis realized what they were talking about, she turned around to find a very red faced Zell standing behind her in his private's uniform. He looked ready to burst with his lips drawn into his mouth and his hands fisted hard and tight at his side. Somehow, he managed to hold it together. It was a feat of emotional control she'd never seen out of him before.

Seifer sneered and shoved the sword case into Zell's hands. "Great. You can wait here with this."

There would be hell to pay for this later, Quistis thought as she slipped between the armed men, leaving Zell standing alone in the sunshine with the overstuffed sword case. The doors closed on his pouting, embarrassed face, leaving Seifer and Quistis alone in the spartan hallway that followed. Above them buzzed harsh, fluorescent lights. Simple, metal doors branched off down the hall, unmarked and identical. The sound of their boots hitting the yellow tile echoed between the cinderblock walls.

"What do you suppose this place is?" Quistis asked.

Seifer, who was tall enough to peer through the windows on the doors glanced in each room as they passed by. "Storage, by the look of it," he replied. "There's stacks of cardboard boxes in here. And uniforms in this one."

Unchallenged, they continued down the hallway, peeking into each room and then continuing on their way. The entire building was quiet except for the hum of the lights and the ambient sound of men outside. Quistis' curiosity was piqued as she followed Seifer. Why had Krier chosen this particular base to house his prisoner rather than one of the numerous government prisons? Of course, his home was with the military, so it made sense that he might trust that infrastructure more than the state one, but she found it odd that he would chose this particular, out of the way installation to put Bob Shipey. On the surface, it appeared to be a run of the mill training camp and munitions storage facility. Perhaps, she thought, this was Krier's home base. Or maybe there was more to this squat building than met the eye.

"Nothing," Seifer grunted. "Just storage. Let's go this way." He started down another hallway that met theirs at a right angle and continued down it with no better luck.

"How about through there?" Quistis suggested. A single, windowless door marked the dead end.

"What makes you think this guy is here at all? I mean, how do you know this Dr. Odine is being straight with us? He didn't seem to me like the sort of person I'd even trust with my goldfish for the weekend. And Laguna Loire didn't seem to care for him either. So why are we here, risking our asses, on the basis of his intel?"

"Because he needs Dr. Shipey as much as we do," she replied, putting a hand against his chest to move him out of the way. "And we don't have any other leads."

The door pulled open easily, revealing a set of stairs that reminded Quistis forcibly of the Tomb of Hyne. She hesitated to go down them, remembering the scene of ancient carnage that had met her at the bottom of another mysterious staircase, but Seifer gave her a strong shove.

"I just think he's got some other agenda here," he said in her ear. "That bastard's only out for what's in his best interest."

"You're no different," she replied. "And I've got no choice but to trust you, too."

The stairs led them to three separate platforms where they changed direction and spiraled further down, taking them far under the surface. Quistis could feel the damp chill in the air. Her soldier's senses were tingling, and she brushed a hand along the coiled form of Save the Queen under her clothes.

At the bottom of the stairs, they went through another unlocked door than opened into a wide, spacious room filled with communications equipment and black servers that had knotty bundles of brightly colored wires running between them and up into the ceiling. Carts of small, notebook computers were shoved between the server racks and several flat panel displays were sitting dormant, orange lights showing that they were in sleep mode. She'd heard that the Galbadian government had several underground data centers, but she'd never imagined she'd ever see the inside of one. The information surrounding her on every hard disk was invaluable to Garden intelligence. Her fingers itched to take just one hard drive.

"Hey. There's more this way." Seifer waved her to the back of the room, where another door led to another short hallway, identical to all the rest and not nearly as interesting as the humming data center.

Reluctantly, she followed him down the hall and up to the single door that stood at the end.

Seifer looked inside, then down at Quistis and smiled. "This professor of yours a fat, bald guy, by any chance?"

0 0 0

Midnight was fast approaching in Trabia. Aside from the crickets chirping in the bushes and the faculty patrolling the halls, nothing stirred. Not even one student had been caught violating curfew and there was a definite lonesome softness to the air. All was dreams and sandy slumber. All except the confident shadows of two SeeDs, slipping unnoticed past nodding faculty toward the infirmary.

No one raised the alarm as they vanished through the infirmary door, swiftly disabling the one nurse who sat watch over the patients at night. She crumpled behind her desk, one arm still slung across her office chair.

In the otherwise empty room, one girl sat up in bed and gasped.

"Who're you?" she demanded.

"Are you Crecentia Fellows?"

"Yes."

"Where's your partner?"

"He just had surgery. He's in recovery." The girl climbed out of bed. "You're from Galbadia?"

"We're Galbadian SeeDs."

"SeeDs? But President Krier must have sent you. Right?"

"Just show us to your partner and we'll get you out of here."

In her plain, hospital pajamas, Crecentia showed them to her partner's room. The man was lying with his foot bandaged and propped, an IV running into one arm. A gentle snoring issued from his nose, creating a grating, syncopated rhythm with the crickets outside the window.

"Can he be moved?" one of the SeeDs asked.

"I don't know. I think so."

"Wake him up."

Duran was reluctant to rouse, but Crecentia whispered urgently in his ear and pulled him up by the arms until his unfocused eyes took in the two SeeDs waiting to take them home. He nodded, swung his aching foot off the bed, and pulled the IV needle out of his arm. He'd do his best not to slow them down. And though the two Galbadian SeeDs could see the nauseating pain clearly across his face, he leaned on a pair of crutches and smiled.

Outside, the crickets fell ominously silent.

0 0 0

"Dr. Shipey?" Quistis walked toward the pale figure lying stretched out on the cot, surrounded by piles of books and shadowy photocopies. He still had a pen gripped in one inky hand. As she advanced toward him, trying not to walk across any of the papers he had spread across the floor, she pulled off her helmet.

"Kick his lazy ass out of bed and lets get the fuck out of here," Seifer said from the doorway.

With that, the man came to, apparently unconcerned about the two soldiers standing in his room.

"Look," he said through a yawn. "I'm not done yet. I told you last time you checked that I wasn't going to be done yet, and that hasn't changed. It's not like you can just sit down and read it. It's like a code. It takes time. Especially if you want an accurate--"

He stopped, noticing Quistis.

"Hang on. You're..." He struggled to place her, and when it clicked his eyes grew wide. "You're that SeeD! From Balamb! The one who...who..."

"Froze you. Yes." She offered a hand. "Come on. We're going to get you out of here."

Reluctantly, he took her hand, though he looked like he feared she might cast another spell on him at any moment.

"Where is here, exactly?" he asked.

"You're being held on a military base in the desert. I think President Krier had you brought here so that he could have sole access to your research."

"Yes! My research!" He dropped her hand and began collecting papers off the floor. Near the door, Seifer was growing uneasy.

"Dr. Shipey. We really need to move quickly."

"Then you should help me," he replied.

Dog eared books, broken pencils, and page after page of what looked to Quistis like chocobo scratchings were as thick as carpet from wall to wall. Not sure what was important and what was doodles, she began shoving handfuls of paper down the front of her uniform. Best to take it all, she thought, and sort out what might be useful later. And the less the Galbadians had to work with, the better. Krier didn't strike her as the sort of man who would suffer a sudden change of heart -- he'd kill Rinoa once he found out how.

"Instructor," Seifer said from the doorway. "We need to get moving. Now."

"He's right. Come on, Dr. Shipey." She had to pull him off a stack of five thick books. "Let's go."

He was still protesting when Quistis pulled him by the arm out into the hallway and followed Seifer back to the data center. They wouldn't have cover or a defensible position again until the top of the stairwell. On the off chance that Galbadian soldiers would hesitate to shoot one of their own, she pulled her helmet back on. A moment of confusion could be the split second of time they would need to strike first.

"Wait a minute." Shipey began to drag his feet as they passed the carts of laptops, but Quistis ignored him and shoved him through the doorway in front of her.

Seifer took the stairs two at a time, and the professor was panting by the time they reached the top. _So far so good_.

Through the door, they were once again at ground level and back into the familiar and mundane world of the dry storage building. All was quiet. The lights were still harsh and flickering, illuminating the empty stretch of doors.

"Let's get the professor a uniform from storage," Quistis suggested. "We can sneak him back out as if he's a private we're taking out on another training session."

"Good idea." It was the first remotely complimentary thing Seifer had ever said to her.

Between them, Dr. Shipey was forced against his already heaving lungs to keep moving. His hands were full and he was awkward and loud. She could imagine that every solider on the base could hear his ragged breathing and his heavy steps. And oddly, it was this paranoia that drew her to such a sensitivity that she heard the door open and two soldiers walk inside, muttering to one another and walking in sync.

Like an animal, she leapt on the professor, one gloved hand sealing over his mouth and hauling him against her chest to halt his leaden steps.

"Probably want to be the first to report it," she heard one of the men say.

When Seifer pulled open the door to the nearest storage room, Quistis nearly lifted the professor clear off his feet to drag him inside before the two turned the corner and spotted them. The storage room was dark inside, the only light coming from the high window, and filled with the tart, clean scent of munitions. They tucked into the right hand corner, up against a metal cabinet, and pressed against one another in an effort to get out of sight. Quistis still had her hand clamped over Dr. Shipey's mouth, and she could feel Seifer breathing against her cheek.

"It's not going to do them any good unless those recruits start shaping up a little better."

"Yeah, well, brownie points don't really hurt either."

Heavy steps came closer, pulsing with Quistis's heartbeat.

"He's not going to be done yet anyway. I checked on him a few hours ago. And he's never going to finish if we keep interrupting him."

A strong hand gripped her hip, crumpling papers that had worked their way down in her uniform and bruising her flesh as two shadows passed over the window to their storage room. Short of actually being discovered, this was the worst possible scenario. The two men would get to the bottom of the stairs only to find the professor gone and would immediately raise the alarm. Urgency fell upon them, heavy and dark.

"Fuck," Seifer swore gently, the word washing over Quistis' left ear. "Time for plan B."

Under her hand, Dr. Shipey was struggling against the suffocating vice of her hand, distracting her from what the other man was doing behind her, fumbling against the small of her back with something round and smooth.

"What plan B?" she hissed, and eased her grip on the professor. "There is no other plan."

"This is _always_ the second best plan, Instructor," he replied, and threw open the door, letting in a burning stream of hard light that illuminated the two pale, metal balls he had fisted in either hand. _Grenades._

"Seifer..." She still wasn't sure what he planned to do with them until he got to the door leading down the stairs. "Seifer...this will just get us discovered by everyone! Seifer! Listen to me, damn it!"

He popped the tops off both grenades with his thumbs and managed to maneuver the door open. With a grunt, he threw both of them at the same time, sending them bouncing off the walls and the steps with a horrific clamor. Right before he slammed the door Quistis heard a shout, and then the floor shook underneath them with the roar of the two explosions caught in the confined space of the stairwell. Above them, the fluorescent lights blinked on and off, rattled out of their sockets.

"Who are you people?" Dr. Shipey demanded.

The man blanched even further when a siren began to sound and automatic sprinklers came on.

"What's going on?"

"A rescue. What's it look like?" Seifer demanded and started down the hall again, not even bothering to look back at the smoldering doorway he'd left behind. The floor was slick with water from the sprinklers, and some of the lights were hissing and popping. In just a few seconds, Seifer had managed to transform this peaceful piece of nowhere into a war zone. It was a talent for destruction and chaos that only a god should have had.

More figures were approaching now -- the guards from the front door. They skidded to a slippery halt when they spotted Seifer coming toward them.

"There was an explosion in the data center!" he yelled to them, then drug the professor up to his side. "We got the doctor out, but the other two didn't make it up with us! You need to get some men in there now!"

Uncertain, the two guards looked at their superior officer and then at the man they were charged to guard. Certainly, he wasn't supposed to be taken from the building. But, then again, their orders hadn't included a provision for what should happen should the building catch fire. Miraculously, they stepped to the side and let Seifer pass, dragging the professor with him. Quistis jogged behind.

"Get in there, soldiers!" he called back at their hesitating forms, sending them scampering away. To Quistis he smiled and said, "Chicken Wuss better be ready to get out of here. We don't have time to go looking for him now."

0 0 0

Duran was howling, his head tipped back against the seat and his jaw looking like it might come unhinged, as the car came up over a curb and caught air, landing three feet off the walkway that stretched from the Garden entrance to the gate. They were almost in the clear, though the spells flashing across the windshield and the agonized screams of the Galbadian man seemed to indicate otherwise. Crecentia was sitting next to him, trying to look unconcerned. The two SeeDs in the front seat were ignoring their passengers, focusing completely on short stretch of walkway left before they burst out into the free Trabian night air.

"Watch out for the ice!"

"I see it! Don't worry."

The car veered hard to the left, taking them over another curb that sent Duran into a brand new fit of hysterics.

"Almost there! Hang on!"

They clipped the gargoyle statue on their way by, taking off one of the rearview mirrors and running a deep gash into the side of the car that spider webbed one of the windows.

"It's okay! We're in the clear!"

Hot, choking sulfur leaked into the car as a roar split the air. Up ahead, all Crecentia could see was fire and red, flickering light. But something was inside of it, and she could just see a pair of duel, gnarled horns escaping out the top of the fireball when the SeeD swerved hard, taking them off into the grass.

"The chain-link!" she yelled. "Freeze it!"

"Blizzaga!"

Duran retched, vomiting over his shoes when they hit the fence, shattering the frozen links and sending a spray of aluminum shrapnel scratching across the car. An unnatural heat warmed the seats and made her hair sizzle, but they were on the plains now, heading toward the mountains and then the forest. Somewhere, not far, was the sea and a boat waiting to take them home.

"Oh God." It was all Duran could do to dissolve into a heap on the seat, passed out from the pain and the misery.

0 0 0

Word about the underground explosion hadn't traveled beyond the supply building, and the moment Seifer and Quistis stepped out into the desert sun with Dr. Shipey in tow, a platoon of armed Galbadian soldiers turned to confront them. The majority of them, young men dressed in blue, didn't recognize Shipey and so only looked on with puzzlement as two officers dashed past. But the moment someone in charge spotted them, the order went out. Quistis heard someone call out above the soft roar of confused whispers, "Stop them!"

"Get down!" she yelled. They dove behind the nearest building as the entire base erupted in gunfire. Bullets broke off bits of brick as they whizzed past.

From the depths of one of his pockets, Seifer produced another grenade.

"How many of those did you take?" Quistis asked in amazement as he pulled the pin.

"How many did you?"

"None."

"Then you better get your whip out." He tossed the grenade around a corner and they covered their heads as it exploded, sending bits of jagged, hot metal flying in all directions.

"Don't hit the professor!" someone yelled.

Quistis pulled her arms into her clothing and began the complicated process of unwrapping Save the Queen from her middle. The bottom length of the whip was covered in one-way barbs that would lie flat unless rubbed the wrong way, like the back of a porcupine. The last thing she wanted to do was pull it off the wrong way and disembowel herself. But Seifer was pressuring her, his hand squeezing her thigh as if to remind her that the situation was dire -- like the bullets arcing above her head weren't enough motivation to be quick.

"They don't want to hit him. We'll use him for cover," Seifer announced and levered Dr. Shipey in front of him like a human shield. "You send out the signal to Fu and Raij."

"I can't."

"What?"

"I don't have Quetzalcoatl. Zell does!"

"Perfect. Great."

Quistis threw off her helmet to see clearly. They might still be able to make it out. She'd been in worse situations before and her magic had never let her down. Of course, in the battle with Ultimecia, there hadn't been sharpshooters on the rooftops waiting for a clear moment to gun her down, or a swarm of men ready to overtake her. This was a whole different kind of battle, and not the sort that was trained for very often. She probed her mind for Bahamut and didn't have to look very far before the dragon shuddered and roared, more than ready to do his part.

"I'll cover for you," she told Seifer. "Try to get Dr. Shipey to the gate."

Bahamut was chomping at the bit now, pulling hard at the mental straps holding him subdued. Ahead of Seifer, she stepped clear of the building, needing a solid view of the enemy, and saw the bullets coming through the air toward her as the guardian force tore free and manifested out of cloud and fire, letting the projectiles ricochet off his armored hide like flies. The Galbadians spooked. Some of the younger soldiers actually turned and ran when they saw the fifteen foot tall dragon spread its wings and take a deep breath. The rest braced themselves and took cover. Quistis could do little but stand, arms flung out to either side, her being co-opted by the powerful, ethereal force emanating from the nether-reaches of her brain. She'd never been able to break free of Bahamut's summoning.

Behind her, she was aware of Seifer and Dr. Shipey running past. And then, outside of the protective bubble of Bahamut's favor, a tsunami of fire and searing plasma broke loose, exploding from the guardian's gaping maw.

It felt like he ripped the blast straight from her gut, and Quistis was momentarily dazed, though she heard the cries of the Galbadians all around her.

As quickly as it had begun, it was over. The firestorm and the dragon shivered and vanished, sucked back into the realm of thought and possibility. The guardian's return brought Quistis a rush of relief, but she still fell to one knee and didn't have the energy to get back up, even when she spotted a car speeding toward her.

At least Seifer would get out with Dr. Shipey. It would take the Galbadians a long time to regroup. They wouldn't have time to catch him on the way to the gate. And maybe together, they could figure out a way to save the world without her.

With a sharp lurch, the car changed course and came skidding to a stop sideways in front of her, throwing up a plume of blinding dust and rocks that pelted her arms like hail. It came within inches of running her over, the heavy, military tread tires just a breath from her fingers. When the door popped open and Seifer's head shot out, she would have cried out had she been able to. He pulled her inside, still coughing.

"Hold on, Quisty!" Zell said as he floored the gas pedal. "I sent the signal. One clap of thunder. Fujin and Raijin should be here any minute!"

Quistis was lying across Seifer and Dr. Shipey and couldn't see where they were headed, but she felt Zell make several sharp, right hand turns.

"There they are!" Seifer said.

"Where?"

"There! Head for the basket ball court!"

Volleys of bullets were once again flying in their direction, but they rang ineffectually off the armored vehicle. Zell hit the breaks just as Quistis was getting up. She had time to spot their Estharan ship through the windshield before she fell forward again.

"I can't drag the both of you, Instructor. Get on your feet!" Seifer ordered.

Despite what he'd said, he put one arm around her middle and pulled her out the car door along with the limp, shocked Dr. Shipey. She knew he was saying something, but over the aircraft's engines she couldn't make it out, and his arm was locked tight around her so that even once she regained her footing she couldn't break free.

"Let go of me!" she yelled. The hot, rippling air flung her words away.

He yelled something back and threw her forward, onto the steps extending down between the aircraft's claws.

Fujin and Raijin didn't wait for the hatch to close all the way before they took off again, leaving the four of them clinging to the rising steps as the ground lurched away. When the hatch did close and seal, blocking out the deafening call of the wind and the winding growl of the engines, an eerie silence fell. Quistis was half on top of Zell, Seifer's arm once again extended in a punishing grip around her waist. And Dr. Shipey was spread eagled in front of all of them, his papers scattered over his chest and face.

"What do you _want_ with me?" he demanded, out of breath, knees shaking. "What the hell do you want?"

0 0 0

Krier was sitting down to dinner when he received word from Headmaster Martine that his SeeDs had successfully extracted his two prisoners from Trabia Garden. It was a step in the right direction -- something to celebrate. So he popped the cork on a bottle of vintage pino grigio from Winhill. He was glad later that he had, as it softened the blow, sitting buttery and light on his tongue when a second call came through.

"What do you mean you lost Dr. Shipey?"


	11. The Legend of Vascaroon

A/N: I still feel uncertain about this chapter and will probably revise it within the next month. So any constructive criticism here would be appreciated and taken into account for editing purposes. Also, please note that ellipses (...) in the ancient Centran tablets appear where pieces are missing.

Chapter 10: The Legend of Vascaroon

The over packed sword case sprang open in Seifer's hands, dumping wrinkled clothing onto the floor. Under it all, wrapped in a pair of jeans, was Hyperion. Seifer dropped the case and all of its contents as he pulled his gunblade out, a surge of stomach-tightening emotion rising up his body. He turned it over, inspecting the edge and the gun mechanism for any damage, and finally got down on his knees to gently put the blade to bed in its proper case, snuggled in a tight, velvet nest.

"If you cared about anything else half as much as you do about that gunblade, you might have made SeeD," the instructor said as she walked into the room, fresh from leading Dr. Shipey to the bridge. Zell trailed in behind her, clinging to her heels.

"Did you have to throw my clothes on the floor like that?" he whined.

"You're lucky you remembered my gunblade, Chicken Wuss. Or I'd have done a lot worse than that."

"Can't you two get along for a even few seconds?"

"Not even for my favorite instructor." Seifer grinned and snapped the case closed around his prized weapon.

She frowned. "I know it probably makes you feel big and important, but it's really very _small_ of you to bring that up."

Right. He'd forgotten. She wasn't an instructor anymore. Now she was just a SeeD. Just Quistis. It didn't really make much of a difference to him what her rank was, but the idea that she'd been fired did strike a pleasant and selfish cord. They'd been in all of the same classes together up until they were fifteen, when they had both taken the field exam and only she had passed. Since then she'd seen nothing but easy success and an irritating amount of veneration while he'd been blithely ignored by everyone in command. An old part of him was secretly delighted that someone had finally recognized that she was no more exceptional than her classmates.

Out of the corner of his eye, Seifer watched her bend over and take off her boots. Zell, he noticed, was watching, too.

From the inside of her red uniform, she extracted what looked like a ream of crumpled papers and let them drift from her fingers like leaves.

"What's that?" Zell asked.

"Some of Dr. Shipey's research. He wouldn't leave without it."

"So...you put it down your pants?"

"I offered to put it down mine, but there just wasn't room," Seifer replied, amused.

"Oh sure. Ha ha."

The instructor -- no, _Quistis_ -- tucked her arms into the oversized uniform shirt and with a large sigh worked it up over her head, leaving her standing between Seifer and Zell in just a pair of crimson, army pants and a bra. Dark, sticky blood clung to her sweaty neck and tinted her tangled hair. It was bizarrely sensual and roused some deeply primal, intensely male facet of Seifer's psyche. He was fixated on the gory blemish, even when she bent over to retrieve her change of clothes, until Zell broke the spell.

"Uh...Quisty?"

"Yeah?"

"You just...er...you might not want to talk to the professor like that."

"I'm changing."

"No. I mean...you're sort of..." He blushed.

"You're covered in blood," Seifer said, taking over for the tongue tied Zell. "And your hair's all bushy. You look half animal."

She ran two fingers along her collar bone and frowned. Seifer couldn't see why. As far as he was concerned, she'd never looked more...interesting? Shrugging off the thought, he got back into his own clothes.

There was no reason to stick around as Quistis brushed her hair and Zell stumbled around with his ass in the air, so he wandered up to the bridge where Raijin and Fujin were keeping the professor company. Blue sky and brilliant light surrounded the cockpit. Fujin was in the pilot's seat, her long, thin fingers working over the controls. Raijin was turned around in his seat, peering over the back of it at Dr. Shipey who was hunched as close to the back wall as he could get, clutching his research to his chest.

"Yo! Seifer! Nice job at the base. You probably saved the day down there, ya know?"

"HERO!"

"Well, sure. That's why I'm here."

_Of course _he was the hero. That went without saying.

Zell had been useless from the start and had only shown up long enough at the end of the mission to save his own hide. Quistis hadn't done much more, aside from summoning her guardian force. Speaking of which, what the hell had _that _been? He tried to remember what she'd said it was called. Something like...Bomb-a-hut? No. Bomb-ha-moot? In any case, whatever it had been, he'd been reluctantly impressed. He'd never figured anything so massive and so powerful could come from the mind of a woman so chronically boring. Seeing that dragon drop from the stars at her beck and call, and thinking about her standing half naked in the next room with the heat of battle still flush across her skin sparked an unpleasant flare of respect in his heart for her.

Thankfully, it was smothered when she arrived on the bridge, miraculously clean and coiffed, dressed in strategically feminine clothing that looked pressed and crisp despite spending hours wadded in a ball with Zell's short trousers. And she had glasses on. Where the hell had those come from?

"Dr. Shipey, I'm Quistis Trepe," she said as she sat down in the chair next to him, folding her legs. "This is Zell Dincht. We're SeeDs from Balamb Garden. And that is Seifer Almasy and his associates, Raijin and Fujin."

"Seifer Almasy..." Dr. Shipey glanced at him. "As in, the sorceress' knight?"

"That's me." Seifer waved.

"You're working together? On this Estharan air ship?"

"That's right. We were sent to get you by Dr. Odine," Quistis replied.

Resignation splashed across the man's face. "Dr. Odine? You're working for him?"

"We're not working for anybody, least of all that clown," Seifer announced, uneasy at the idea of being associated with the strange scientist. "He just told us where we could find you."

Shipey digested this information for a moment, then said, "If you're from Balamb Garden, then something must have happened at the crater. Is that why you need me and my research?"

"We need you to do _more_ research," Quistis explained. "When we went to the crater, we found the tomb. But there was nothing inside."

He shook his head. "No. That's not possible."

"We opened the final chamber, and it was empty," Quistis replied, sounding scolding and teacher-like. "If these tablets have been around since the time of Vascaroon, isn't it possible that the weapon was looted or moved in antiquity?"

"Not very likely. The Tomb of Hyne has always been regarded as a cursed place and Trabia is terribly out of the way. Even today. Plus, what would anyone want with the weapon?" Shipey eyed them all. "What do _you_ want with it?"

"Rinoa's their friend, ya know?"

"Rinoa? I take it she's the last sorceress?" Talking about his research was bringing the man out of his shell. And, Seifer supposed, the fact that they hadn't beaten the shit out of him yet improved his outlook on being in their custody. "That must be why Odine sent you. Something's happening to her."

"She's not herself anymore. Dr. Odine thinks that the sorceress power is transforming her into Hyne," Quistis said.

"That's what the tablets say."

"Don't they say any way we can save her?" Zell demanded. "We can't just kill her!"

"If she's actually changing, then that means the legend is true, and killing her wouldn't do any good. The sorceress spark would just pass into someone else, and they would begin the transformation," Shipey replied. "Vascaroon believed the only way to defeat Hyne was essentially to disperse her. The word Vascaroon used is an ancient Trabian one, relating to the rending of flesh -- tearing someone limb from limb."

Zell gasped. "We have to rip Rinoa apart?"

"No. Not Rinoa. It's not that simple. _She_ isn't Hyne. The sorceress power is. That's what has to be spit up again."

"This weapon thing was supposed to be able to do that?" Seifer asked.

"According to Vascaroon."

"It's simple then. We just track down whatever happened to the weapon, and then we use it. Rinoa's fine, Hyne is gone, and Squall gets his attitude adjustment. Doesn't sound too hard to me." Seifer couldn't see why everyone was making this so complicated. In terms of actually carrying out a plan, he was much more concerned about Squall getting in the way than Rinoa. Getting past him would probably be more difficult than finding this fabled weapon.

Quistis pointed to the papers Shipey was still holding to his chest. "Are those copies of the tablets?"

"Original and translations."

"Would you mind if we read them?"

"You can if you want to. But you're not going to find anything new. If Hyne really is returning, there's only one thing any of us can do."

"I'd like to read it anyway."

Shipey sighed. "It'll take me a while to get everything organized."

Quistis followed him as he collected his papers. Curious, Seifer lurked behind her. Since childhood, he'd had a vested interest in sorceresses and so had read a lot about Vascaroon. He felt a strange mixture of awe and oblique dislike toward the ancient hero. Nearly every writer from ancient times regarded him as a god among men, as someone who saw with clarity where others could not penetrate the fog, despite the fact that his historical role in the defeat of Hyne had been minimal. A lifetime's worth of curiosity now drew him now to Dr. Shipey, wanting to know more despite himself about the one period of human history other than his own he'd ever had a sincere interest in.

"Who was this scribe?" Quistis asked. "Dr. Odine told us that he actually interviewed Vascaroon. Is that true?"

"Yes. Jorgan E'Lizul. He was the palace historian for King Zebalga II, the third king of the incorporated Centran Empire," Shipey replied as he sat cross-legged on the floor, collecting and reordering the crumpled and scattered papers that had come out of Quistis's uniform. "When Vascaroon was in his nineties -- an _extremely_ advanced age then -- King Zebalga II sent him home to Trabia to die, and then sent Jorgan E'Lizul there as well to record his story. That's where the legend of Hyne you know came from, the official history commissioned by Zebalga II."

"Yeah, but that sure ain't the legend I've been hearing lately," Seifer said. "This Jorgan guy wrote that one, too?"

"I think that the official history might be an expunged version of the one I found in these tablets."

"Why would the king send his scribe to interview Vascaroon, and then censor what he had to say?" Quistis asked.

Zell wandered into the room and nudged Seifer out of the way so he, too could get a position against the wall. There wasn't much else to do on the ship, so Seifer sent him a nasty glare but moved aside to give the other man room.

"This particular period of Centran history is one that is filled with civil unrest," Shipey began. "The empire wasn't even a century old, and the newly conquered areas of Trabia and the west coast of Galbadia -- Dollet -- were anything but stable and Zebalga II wasn't a very popular king. I think it's likely that he wanted to remind the population of Hyne in order to bring everyone back together and under control. And, more than that, he wanted to remind them that his grandfather had been pivotal in Hyne's defeat. Vascaroon was an exceedingly popular hero. A good word from him was like an endorsement from God. But in here, Vascaroon tells a story that doesn't reflect as well on King Zebalga I or his family."

"So he edited it to make himself look good," Zell guessed.

"Right."

There fell a silence punctuated only by the soft flapping of paper. Seifer watched as Quistis took off her glasses and chewed on one of the ear pieces. All the kind thoughts he'd had about her following the base mission were gone now, replaced by a feeling of boredom and contempt. She was all show: the blond hair, the blue eyes, the pointless glasses, the clothing carefully selected to remind everyone around her that she was young and feminine but also an authority. He'd liked her better as a ruffled battle vixen, blood soaked and sweaty.

"What happened to Jorgan E'Lizul?" she asked. "Do we know?"

"Later historians claim that he was killed during an uprising in the capital against Zebalga II. For good or ill, he was connected to that administration, and when it came down, he fell with it. But nobody mentioned that an alternate history of his might exist. I can only suppose he must have kept copies, and they were taken from the city after the uprising by his family. Probably to the colonies, seeing as these were mostly found in Esthar."

"Then if there are more tablets, they'd probably be in ancient Centran colonial cities?" Quistis asked.

"Probably. In the past few weeks, I've pin pointed a few locations of interest." Shipey was completing his stack now and tapping it against the metal floor to even it out.

"How'd you do that?" Zell asked, and Seifer could practically see the hamster wheel spinning behind his eyes. The guy was a dimwit, plain and simple.

"The locations of Centran texts are well documented. At least, those not destroyed by the lunar cry in Centra proper. It's just that nobody has been able to read them before. And nobody can now either, except me." Shipey swelled with pride. "Why did you suppose I was being held on a base with a data center?"

"Shit. President Krier still has all your research?" Now that Seifer thought back on the set up with Shipey's cell mere feet from a room packed with hard drives, servers, and laptops, it made perfect sense. Of course they'd back up his work. And of course he'd need access to outside resources.

"He has everything. Including my list of points of interest, assuming it survived the blast."

"I think we should probably assume that it did," Quistis said, frowning at Seifer like the entire situation was his fault.

He would have liked to hit her.

Dr. Shipey handed Quistis his stack of papers.

"The tablets did not survive millennia unscathed," he explained. "Some pieces are still missing, but the important bits are there."

The professor sat back against the wall, comfortable after nearly a month of confinement with his role as a prisoner. Quistis held the papers in one hand, her eyes working over the small, neat letters written above the grainy copy of ancient, carved ones. Silently, she put her glasses back on and began to read to herself.

"You think we're just standing here to look at your pretty face?" Seifer asked. "Is there some reason you can't do that out loud so the rest of us can join in the fun?"

Quistis sighed dramatically, but gave in, her voice ringing clear and strong: "_In the seventy eighth year of our great empire, Vascaroon, a man who was known by all for his courage and heroism, took ill and died..._"

0 0 0

Prior to weakening with age, Vascaroon was taken by a regiment of the king's guard into the northern territories, into the country that the natives call _ Trabia_, a place that the great hero had once called home. Trabia is a wild and wooly place, much different from the calm and serene lands of Centra which bloom with gentle life and rolling hills. Trabia is a land of extremes with great ice sheets and snow capped mountains. The wildlife is large and has no fear of human kind, though the natives seem to have developed ways to contend with the local species and they all wear a combination of soft, blue snow lion fur and tough, leathery mesmerize hide. One can easily see how in a place such as this, a man like Vascaroon could have been forged, ground out between the pestle and mortar of wrathful gods and robust breeding.

It was thus a great sadness to watch Vascaroon pass from our time. He did so alone, at night, in his tent, and was discovered the next morning still on his cot with a great emptiness in his eyes.

All in the camp were touched by his passing, and the Trabian women mourned his loss for three days through wailing processions and heavy feasts that the Trabians took to like beasts, their sadness momentarily washed away. (...)

Though he had seen more of the world and time than any other, Vascaroon was not a man wasted and frail before his death; indeed, he seemed to still possess much of the charisma and power that the myth weavers spin of his youth. Although, he was not at all times terribly pleased to recount the events which had given him such fame: the defeat of Hyne the Magician and the forging of the great Centran Empire under its first king, Zebalga I.

During the days prior to his death, his reluctance seemed to spring from a central and disturbing fact: Vascaroon believes Hyne still lives.

One cannot understand why he came to embrace this idea until something of the being known to the world as Hyne the Magician and the war that waged against this being is understood. (...)

Vascaroon was a young man of seventeen when Hyne the Magician first appeared and began to ravage the Centran country side, stealing children from inside their homes, culling an entire generation that has not yet recovered from the slaughter. For two years the tribes of Centra fought against the scourge, but they were unable to mount a cohesive defense against the being which could appear and vanish at will.

During this period, Vascaroon lived in his native home of Trabia. By the time Hyne's reach stretched to the rocky shores of his homeland, Vascaroon was nineteen and leaving his village to make his own life. This is a tradition with the Trabians, I am told, to never allow all the men of one family to remain in the same place, so as to prevent inbreeding and internecine strife over family valuables. The women are utterly sedentary, remaining in the village of their birth for life, while the men travel, and thus intervillage contentment and diversity is preserved.

Vascaroon headed south into the warmer climes. Zebalga I was at this same time heading north, pursuing the trail of heartbreak Hyne the Magician left in his wake. The two were bound to meet, and did so during the summer of that year.

Although the years long separated him from our founding king, Vascaroon still had much to say regarding his majesty, much of it the stuff one can overhear in a lady's bawdy room. I believe the two had an adversarial relationship, although Vascaroon would not confirm this assumption, springing from the conquests Centran tribes, Zebalga's in particular, were making in the area at the time. Possibly, the two met over clashing swords.

Whatever disagreement the two men had, all was soon set aside as... (...)

King Zebalga made great efforts to bring the Centran tribes of the area together under the assumption that safety exists in numbers, and since Hyne the Magician had not yet attacked a major Centran city, this seemed to be a logical defensive tactic. Vascaroon disagreed.

The Trabians have a legend of a being who comes to earth as a destroyer and wreaks havoc among men. And in their legends, they tell of a single weapon which can be used against the creature to restore the balance. Vascaroon sought this method out while Zebalga built walls around the colonies.

I had not heard of a Trabian legend of Hyne until Vascaroon told me of its existence, and I requested to hear it both from the hero himself and from several local Trabians in the area. All were willing to recount the tale which is apparently a center piece of their oral culture, one they have never written down. I believe this history is the first place such a tale will be written and so take great pains here to preserve it with all the detail I was given.

First, something must be said of how the Trabians view the world and its creation... (...)

Zebalga's defenses proved unable to prevent Hyne from entering Centran cities, and within months all of the children in the colonies were missing or dead. The strife was unbearable for some, though Zebalga tried to rally morale around a group of men who were to go out and attempt to confront Hyne and convince the creature to cease tormenting the people of Centra.

It is a great boon of luck that Vascaroon was able to beat this group of ill-fated Centran men to Hyne on the day that they set out, as he now possessed the only weapon which he believed capable of dispatching the calamity.

He was willing to recount little of the actual battle, only to say that Hyne suffered _sparaktos_, a Trabian word I've been told connotates a dispersal of parts, or the dismemberment of a person limb from limb. Hyne, Vascaroon said, was split down the middle. One half vanished, and the other remained. In a single afternoon, the scourge of our time had been countered and defeated.

The half-body was buried in a great tomb that was built inside a vast scar on the Trabian landscape.

On his deathbed, Vascaroon insisted that this defeat was not a permanent one, and that one day Hyne would return. The pieces of Hyne's power, he said, had merely been spread across the world in a layer thin as gold leafing. One day, he said, the pieces might be able to recollect themselves.

It seems apparent now, months after Vascaroon's death, that this may in fact be the case, as I have heard of women as far apart as the costal southern beaches of Centra and the frozen north of Trabia who suddenly seem to posses a mystical and strange power. They are being called _Sorceresses._ Various animals in the empire as well are beginning to show odd traits that they never had before. I am forced to wonder whether these are the remnants of Hyne that Vascaroon had spoken of.

In order to ensure that the future remains as safe and preserved as the present, Vascaroon has buried the weapon to combat Hyne in his Trabian tomb. There it will remain, safe alongside his body, forever guarding our empire's vast prosperity.

0 0 0

Seifer had never listened to Quistis talk for so long without drifting off before, although halfway through her reading of the tablets Raijin and Fujin wandered in and, after the curious glances sent their way, Fujin had quickly explained by saying, "AUTOPILOT" before the story continued. Presently, they were all sitting in a semi-circle around her like a kindergarten class. Zell even had his mouth open and was lying on his stomach, his feet up in the air behind him.

"It's weird, isn't it?" he said. "Thinking that Vascaroon and Hyne and all of that might actually be real."

"It's weird thinking that you might actually be licensed to carry a weapon," Seifer grumbled, shoving him.

"I don't need a license," Zell replied. "Ain't nobody who can disarm me o'these." He pounded the floor with his fists.

"ADOLESCENT," Fujin scoffed, garnering herself a high five from Seifer.

"Ugh. Can you believe we have to work with these people, Dr. Shipey?" Zell rolled toward the professor, who was still sitting apart from their group.

Quistis ignored all of them and asked instead, "So that's what the crater expedition's goal was? To find this weapon before Rinoa finished transforming into Hyne?"

Shipey hesitated before replying. "I would have liked to have gone there just to gather more information. It was Krier's idea to move ahead and retrieve the weapon. We still don't actually know what it is or what it does. Or whether this is all a myth. There's a lot of pieces still missing from the story."

"And that's why you hit President Krier at the dinner? Because he was moving forward, and you didn't think he should."

Shipey shrugged. "I lost my cool. He was pushing me off the project."

Seifer had forgotten that tid bit of information. This little, middle aged professor had actually punched the President of Galbadia and lived to tell the tale. He wished he could have been there to see it. At the time, he'd probably been at sea, pulling up an overloaded pot of crabs and fighting for footing among the ice cold waves washing over the side of the _Black Mage_. It irked him to think that at the same time, Quistis and Zell were schmoozing in the swanky Balamb Garden hotel with Laguna Loire and getting into fist fights with Galbadian heads of state. It almost made him wish he'd stuck around long enough to become a SeeD in the first place.

"Even if Krier finds new materials, he can't read them without you, Dr. Shipey," Quistis announced. "We'll take you some where safe first. Then we'll see about finding more tablets."

"Where is safe, exactly?" Seifer asked.

"He can say in the palace with Laguna. Fujin, set a course in for Esthar."

Fujin and Raijin got up, stretched, and went back to their posts on the bridge.

"I've still got some materials I'm working on translating," Shipey said. "I hadn't finished it when you...um...rescued me."

"Great. Maybe the answer we need is already in our hands. You're welcome to all the onboard computers that you need to do your work, Dr. Shipey. I don't know if you've used Esthar work stations before, but Zell can show you how if you need any help."

"Yeah! Come on, I'll show you. It looks sorta complicated at first, but it's all color coded. You'll catch on in no time." Zell grabbed the professor's hand and pulled him to his feet.

Shipey wobbled and quickly grabbed his papers from Quistis before the over-zealous blond pulled him from the room, babbling eagerly about how exciting it would be to assist in ground-breaking research. It was a strange side of Zell that Seifer had never seen before -- the eager student. He'd always figured the guy got by in his classes on the pity card. Who knew he had a passion for learning? He supposed Quistis was surprised as well, because she was looking at him with an odd expression on her face once they were alone in the room.

"Didn't think he had half a brain to spare," he said. "Wonder why he doesn't use it more often."

"Is there some fundamental reason that you refuse to give him a break?" she asked, eyes narrow. "He saved your life down there. And mine."

"_He_ saved _my_ life? Were we on the same base?"

"If Zell hadn't commandeered that armored car, we both would be dead."

"If I hadn't taken control in the storage facility, everyone here would be dead."

Quistis stood up and crossed her arms tightly across her chest. "That's what you think happened? You think you saved the day by throwing a few grenades? Have you forgotten who is the high ranking SeeD here and who is the fisherman, Seifer?"

"Have you forgotten who is the failure?"

She sucked in a sharp breath, and he stood up to so that they could be nose to nose.

"No. I haven't. _You're_ the failure," she said. "I'm a rank A SeeD...one of the best mercenaries on the planet. A hero. You're a fallen knight from a lost war."

"You froze down there. So I took action. If I hadn't, those two soldiers would have noticed the professor was missing and raised the alarm. We wouldn't even have gotten out of the storage facility for Zell to make his daring rescue in the first place."

Quistis ran a hand through her hair, ruffling up the smooth, perfect ponytail she'd created. "Do you still think that acting on instinct, running into battle without thinking, is the way a good soldier functions?"

"Sometimes, a good soldier has to." He smiled. "Maybe you don't remember, but I saved you down there, too."

"If you mean dragging me to the ship--"

"That's exactly what I mean."

"You didn't save me. I was perfectly capable of getting there myself."

"Right. That's why I had to carry you."

Her hands fisted at her side and she growled deep in her throat. "I didn't _ ask_ you to! In fact, I _asked_ you to let me go!"

"So then, let me get this straight. Next time, you think I should stand in the hallway and plot out a detailed plan for escape as the soldiers approach, ready to discover us any second. And I should leave you behind unless you specifically ask me to bring you along?" He didn't understand why she was so upset over the whole thing anyway. If this was how she treated someone who'd pulled her out a nest of angry, Galbadian soldiers with guns pointed at her head, then in the future he'd definitely do his best to leave her behind. There was no winning with this woman.

"No! God. You're impossible."

"You're the one who wanted to work with me."

"Yeah! I remember that!" she snapped and turned around so her back was to him.

They stood in silence for a few seconds. Even though a rational part of Seifer's brain knew that it was a signal to let the argument drop, he couldn't resist aggravating it further, pushing the limits to see how far she'd let him go.

He reached out and shoved her, not hard, but enough to knock her off balance. "Bet you wish I was Puberty Boy. Don't you?"

"Yeah. Honestly, I do," she said, spinning around again to face him. Her eyes were overflowing with warm, angry tears. They startled him, and he took a step back, his hand burning from touching her, as if her sadness was a flame that could sear him.

"Oh God. Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying!"

"Looks a hell of a lot like crying to me."

"Damn it," she swore quietly and wiped the tears from her cheeks with both hands. "I just wanted to tell you to give Zell a break. He's never done anything to you. Leave him alone."

"You and him an item or something?" Seifer asked, puzzled. "You keep defending him."

"No. We're friends, Seifer. You understand that word? _Friends_?"

"Yeah. Sure. Friends. So then what about me? Why don't I get any of this good-will?"

She stared at him. "Huh?"

"All the sorceress' knight comments. The traitor thing. You never jump in and defend_ me_. So there must be something special between you and Chicken Wuss." Seifer found imagining the two of them in a relationship difficult. Zell didn't strike him as the sort of person who was emotionally developed enough to actually have a relationship with a woman, and especially not one as high maintenance as this one.

"Seifer..." She looked away from him. "We're not friends."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "No shit."

For some reason, her statement surprised him. Sure, he'd never been interested in spending his free time with her or anyone else from Garden, but it had never really occurred to him that she might actually dislike him either. Realizing it now, he was embarrassed and angry. _Fuck it_. He didn't want to be friends with her. He didn't want to have anything to do with her. Why the hell was he even on this ship, sticking his neck out for these people?

"Look...it doesn't mean that we can't ever be, I guess."

The tips of her fingers brushed his arm. He looked down at her hand and watched the way her skin trailed across his own, gentle and reassuring. And he was bewildered by it. Her eyes were still swollen from tears as she stood there, telling him she didn't like him, but she could. Someday. Maybe. He was quickly loosing track of the point of this entire conversation. Quistis Trepe was unhinged. The woman couldn't hold a straight thought for more than a few seconds.

"Seeing as we're being so nice and honest," he began, stepping away from her touch. "Taking Shipey to Esthar is a mistake."

"You think so?"

"I do."

"Want to share why?"

"Odine."

She sighed. "I thought you might say that."

"You don't really trust that guy, do you?" When she opened her mouth to reply, he interrupted. "I remember. You don't trust me either. Fine. But I'm not the one who's made a career of studying sorceresses. And we're talking the mother of all sorceresses here. The guy's got to be interested in studying Rinoa."

"I know he is. But what else can we do? At least Odine doesn't want to kill her."

"Why not just keep him on the ship? Would save a lot of time."

"We can't take the chance that Krier might get him back."

"We won't. Raijin and Fujin can watch over him."

Her boot heels clicked against the floor as she paced away from him and back. He watched her move, plagued with doubt, and he wondered if Vascaroon and Zebalga had been stymied by a similar argument thousands of years ago, the leader looking for any way to play it safe as the great hero urged him to take a chance and go straight for the heart of the thing -- not to defend against Hyne, but to really fight back. These were decisions, he realized in a sudden epiphany, that she probably wasn't used to making. Squall had been their leader during the war and since.

"I won't tell anybody it was my idea," he offered. "Not for a few days, anyway."

"Generous of you."

"You know I'm right. Hand Shipey over to Dr. Odine, and you can kiss his ass goodbye."

"So instead we just jump right in?"

"Head first."

She sighed, the exhalation blowing aside a wisp of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail and across her face. The heavy mask of control she wore was showing its cracks, exposing deep fault lines. He'd never been in the field with her before, and was amazed to see what an uncertain SeeD she'd turned out to be. In class, she had been all confidence, out-performing everyone with a smile on her face. And as an instructor, she'd possessed the unmistakable gleam of self-righteous superiority. It dissolved away now, here, on this ship above Galbadia, and she sagged under the weight of her responsibility.

He never would have guessed. How had she fallen so far?

Something about it made him smile. And he was searching his mind for something to say, a perfectly aimed insult, when Zell walked in again through the sliding doors.

"What's goin' on?" he asked. "What're you two doing?"

"Nothing. It's fine," Quistis said.

Zell didn't look convinced.

"Is everything alright with Dr. Shipey?" she asked.

"Yeah. He's working."

"Good. I need to talk to him."

Quistis glanced back at Seifer as she walked toward the door with a quick twitch of her head that made her ponytail swing and brush her neck. He wasn't sure what it meant until he caught up with her on the bridge.

"Dr. Shipey, you said you had a list of places of interest," she began. It was like waiting for a volcano to erupt or an eclipse to blot out the sun. The natural order was overturned. A thing of rare beauty was about to occur, possibly for the first time in over a decade. "What's the closest one?"

"I...um...I would guess the Tomb of the Unknown King," he replied, glancing up from his terminal.

"Perfect. We can be there in an hour. Fujin, change course to Deling City and the Tomb of the Unknown King."

A surge of pride tore through Seifer, rocking him back on his heels. She'd taken his suggestion. They'd argued about it, and he had won. Naturally. But still, it tasted so very sweet. He followed her to the front of the bridge and then flopped down in the seat next to her, throwing a heavy arm across her thin shoulders. They tensed and compressed like a spring under his touch, adding a visceral pleasure to his victory.

"Sounds like a brilliant idea..._Quistis_."

0 0 0

The lights in the underground data center still weren't working properly, so the soldiers had stuck round, emergency lights to the walls. They were glowing a bluish-white, illuminating the beaten walls and the stacks of servers, half buried in puffy mounds of fire-retardant foam. Three stories up, men were mopping up water and inspecting the munitions for damage. Four cases of S.A.A. rounds had already been packaged up for re-manufacturing.

Jack Krier stood in the midst of the foam, surveying the damage, as two officers worked to clear off an LCD panel and hooked up a fresh keyboard to one of the computers.

"What the hell happened?" he asked. He'd just arrived, but he already knew this was a major disaster.

"They threw two frag grenades down the stairs. Killed Lt. Col. Pearson and set off all the fire detectors."

"I can see that. Who were they?"

"SeeDs, we think. But they flew out of here on an Esthar ship."

"Then what makes you think they were SeeD?"

The officer brought up an image on the screen of the Galbadian crest. A progress bar beneath it blinked back and forth as the computer booted up.

"One of them summoned this...dragon. It took down thirty two men."

"SeeD it is then." Krier puzzled over this as the two officers used the computer to access each of the servers and assess what data loss had occurred. The foam was designed to protect electronic equipment in the case of a fire, but it did nothing to shield it from explosives or flying shrapnel. Some of the units near the door had taken a particularly harsh beating. Thankfully the brunt of the explosion had been absorbed by the unfortunate Lt. Col. Pearson.

If the group that had abducted Dr. Shipey were SeeD, that meant they had to be from Balamb Garden since Martine and his forces had been occupied at the time. He would have suspected that the attack had occurred under order from the sorceress herself, except that the group had escaped on a ship from Esthar. That particular detail pointed his suspicions toward Dr. Odine. Although, he'd heard rumors that Balamb Garden possessed an airship of Estharan design, so he wasn't ready to come to any immediate conclusions.

"Looks good, Sir. Minimal data loss, even on some of the badly damaged drives. And we might be able to recover some corrupt files from redundant storage."

"How much of Dr. Shipey's research have we lost?"

"None, Sir."

"Back up all of his data to a laptop for me. Then get this place cleaned up."

Krier paced in the foam as they set to work, wondering how he was going to present this to the public. Between the navy's unsuccessful assault on Garden and what looked very much like an Estharan attack on a Galbadian military base, the political landscape was about to get very sticky. He could think of a dozen men off the top of his head who would be knocking down his door the moment news reached them, demanding that he declare war against the reclusive nation. And, although war wasn't in his best interests, he was curious if it wouldn't make for better footing to operate under. It certainly gave him a handy pretense to explain the attack on Balamb Garden.

He'd wait, he decided, until after Duran and Crecentia's debriefing. He had to know what happened in Trabia.

"Sir?"

"What is it?"

"There's a file on here you might want to look at right away. It looks like a list of locations."

The soldier pulled up a text file and displayed it on the LCD. A list of a dozen odd locations flashed up on the screen under the provocative heading, "Centran Ruins of Interest." The first on the list was Deling City, the Tomb of the Unknown King, followed by a variety of places around the world, some of which Krier didn't recognize.

"Print those out for me. And plot them on a map if you can."

"Yes, Sir."

Krier started toward the ravaged stairs, flicking foam off his shoes. "Let me know as soon as your finished. I want to leave as soon as possible."

There was a confounding amount of things to do before word of the base attack leaked out. And it would, he knew that. These men were largely privates still in training. He'd be lucky if everyone in Deling City didn't already know by the time he got back. Mercy be with him. He hoped he'd have at least five more hours of peace before having to decide whether to go to war.


	12. Tomb of the Unknown King

Chapter 11: Tomb of the Unknown King

To land near Deling City, Fujin turned off all the lights both inside and outside of their ship. On the bridge, the only illumination came from the moon and the dull, green instrument panel. Solid ground lurked underneath them, locked in impenetrable shadow. Fujin had her bottom lip planted firmly between her teeth as she slowly throttled down the engines. Afraid of breaking her concentration, no one spoke. Even Raijin was silent, taking only shallow breaths and not daring to move a muscle in his seat lest he throw off her delicate balance of thrust and instinct.

The anticipation built to such a fever pitch that when the landing gear finally impacted with Galbadian soil, everyone gasped and jumped. The professor even dropped his open book on the floor, bending the pages. He cursed softly as he bent to pick it up.

"Nice job, Fujin," Quistis praised. "Very nice."

"She's the best, ya know?" Raijin grinned and his teeth flashed iridescent green.

"EASY."

On the horizon, Deling City stretched out lazily, a cloudy swarm of yellow and orange lights. Seifer pressed one hand to the cool glass of the window. This was his favorite city in the world. And one that held so many good memories: the free-wheeling summer he'd spent playing cards, drinking beer, and indulging in Rinoa's teenage admiration; the thrill of the parade, standing solid between Edea and the pulsing crowd; and being called, for the first time, to perform his duties as a knight. They were all memories he held close, tucked up under his ribs and against his soul.

"We ever going to get going?" he demanded, his fingers curling against the image.

Quistis glanced at him to make it obvious she was ignoring him on purpose, and then said, "Dr, Shipey, are you ready to go?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," he replied with a shrug. "I've never been in the Tomb of the Unknown King before."

"Zell and I have. Don't worry about it. As long as we make it there before the Galbadians, we'll be fine. I'm more worried about the city."

They had all agreed a trip into town would be necessary in order to stock up on much needed supplies and to retrieve some essential research materials from Dr. Shipey's office at the university. Seifer thought the professor could get by just fine with what he had, but he hadn't fought the suggestion because he wasn't opposed to the stop.

"We'll be back soon," Raijin said as he rested his large hand on Fujin's slender shoulder, for which she slugged him hard on the arm.

"GO!"

"Hey! I just don't want you to be lonely here, ya know? You sure she can't come along?"

"Someone has to stay with the ship in case it's discovered, and Fujin is the only one who can fly it," Quistis replied. "You could stay here with her if you want to."

"Can't," Raijin replied tightly. He'd been assigned to be Dr. Shipey's personal body guard and was already taking the role very seriously.

"She'll be fine," Seifer insisted. He was eager to get off the ship and onto concrete.

Somewhat mollified, Raijin asked, "Anything I can buy for ya, Fu?"

With the list she dictated in hand, Raijin finally allowed himself to lead off the ship -- or, rather, he was forced to leave once Dr. Shipey left his sight and started down the ramp. Seifer was the first one out onto the grass, where he paused to take deep breaths of the cool, fresh air that smelled distantly of sea and sand. _God._ He loved this place. In the dark, he pulled out Hyperion and held it straight out to point it like a divining rod to sense the heartbeat of the ground under his feet.

"Seifer!" Zell squealed. "You almost friggin' killed me!"

"Have you ever heard of personal space, Chicken Wuss?" Seifer let Hyperion's hilt roll across the plane of his palm to make his point. "You don't need to stand so damn close to me all the time."

Zell mumbled. "...can't just go swinging swords around in the dark."

Quistis' heavy steps plodded over to them, and even in the dark Seifer thought he could see her hands land on her hips. "Seriously! Do we have to do this every time? Let's just _go._"

The walk to Deling City took fifteen minutes, during which Zell talked endlessly to Dr. Shipey about Centran history. The noise and bustle of traffic, night vendors, and one hundred thousand voices in the city was a distinct relief from his monologue. And it was everything Seifer remembered. Just inside the gates, a rental car shop glowed in snaking tubes of pink and yellow neon. At the corner, a red trolley car was trundling to a stop where a bored looking man in a green uniform was waiting. He had his back to them and was watching a woman pick her way down the steps out of the trolley in heels that looked high enough to throw her to the ground and break her neck.

"This one go downtown?" Zell asked, startling him.

"Huh? I...uh..."

"Sure does," the high-heeled woman replied instead and winked at Zell, who flushed beet-red when he noticed her looking at him.

The trolley was mostly empty, but the few people who were on board stared curiously as they sat down -- Dr. Shipey squeezed between the titanic Raijin and the sour looking Seifer, Zell still blubbery with embarrassment, and Quistis absently rolling her whip around one hand as she pretended to be somewhere else.

Downtown, Seifer decided to spend his time in the junk shop while everyone else browsed the Nautilus item shop. The man at the counter had to flip through four catalogs before he found a gunblade upgrade model that appeased Seifer's strict sense of aesthetics. Whatever engineer spent all of his time imagining weapon upgrades was obviously someone who rarely put his designs into practice, Seifer thought. So many new gunblades had things like little flames on the edges, or blades divided down the center for "extra cutting area" (never mind the fact that a blade cut in half would be more likely to snap on the hide of a hexadragon than cause extra damage). Besides, he'd selected Hyperion because he liked the way it looked, sleek and simple with a forgiving, ergonomic curve. He leaned against the counter as he waited and watched over the mechanic's shoulder as he performed the upgrade, just to make sure he didn't do anything unauthorized.

Outside, he met Quistis carrying a shopping bag in one hand and trying to unfold a square sheet of paper in the other.

He grabbed onto one corner to give her leverage and she snapped open a four panel map. "Thanks," she said.

"What's this?"

"The Tomb of the Unknown King."

He leaned forward to look closely at the map, which was covered in small paragraphs noting points of interest and cartoon drawings of monsters at every corner.

"I thought you and Wuss had been there before. And this map doesn't look very reliable."

"We have been there. And if you had been, you'd know why we need a map. Bought this one at the hotel. It's a souvenir, but it's mostly accurate. Well, except for this," she pointed to a paragraph on the right hand corner. "There's no 'pit of vipers' there."

"That's reassuring."

Raijin, Zell, and Dr. Shipey waddled out of the item shop, overloaded with rattling bags.

Quistis paled. "What did you buy? Everything in the store?"

"Just what we needed, ya know?"

She groaned. "I'm going to be poor before this is finally over."

"Maybe we could work out an allowance," Seifer replied, in good spirits as he followed her down the street, bathed in the eternal glow of the city. "Course, you'd have to do something for _me_ to earn it."

She stormed ahead of him, her nose in the air and the map fluttering in her hand. He was still laughing as they walked under the golden arch toward the university. The street still bore scuff marks from the battle that had raged there almost three years ago. He remembered crouching beside Edea on the float as the gates came down, locking them inside the arch. And he remembered how the gunshot from the clock tower broke like a clap of thunder over the hushed crowd. He hadn't been ready for it -- he didn't know anyone who could make an accurate shot from that range -- but Edea had been. A shiver made the hair stand on his arms when he recalled the calm and serene way in which she'd deflected the bullet, shattering it across a blue protect spell.

"What's up?" Zell asked. "You relivin' the glory days?"

Seifer ran his gloved hand across the wall which was still singed from Edea's magic.

"I wouldn't think this is a place you'd want to remember," Zell continued. "Seeing as how Squall first beat you here."

_Way to ruin a perfectly good memory_.

"Fuck off, Chicken Wuss."

On the other side of the arch, a new half of the city came into focus along with the shining edifice of the university bell tower, plated in thick, copper sheeting. Shipey paused and sighed when he spotted it, probably cherishing his own memories of doing whatever it was that ancient language experts did -- probably sweating over old copies of _The Galbadian_ in the bathtub with a cheap bottle of wine or something.

"Come on. We gotta hurry. Fujin's waiting!" Raijin jogged past a sandstone block with "Deling City University" etched onto one flat side and onto the expansive, green campus.

"Raijin's right. We can only spend a few more minutes here if we want to make it to the Tomb of the Unknown King before President Krier," Quistis said.

"I only have a few things to get," Shipey replied. "Some notes and my digital camera."

"Raijin, you go with him. We'll wait here."

Seifer watched as Raijin took off, dragging Dr. Shipey behind him by the arm, then turned to Quistis.

"President Krier _lives_ in Deling City," he said. "If he's not already at the tomb, then he's an even bigger dumb-ass than Zell."

There was a pause as it sunk in, and then -- "Hey!"

Zell was so easy. He went predictably ballistic, just like he always had since the beginning of time. And Quistis jumped in to break up the fight, just like she'd always done at Garden -- the ever harried peace-keeper. Seifer grinned, though his lip was bleeding. Someday he would tire of this arrangement. But not today.

0 0 0

Bumping along the road to Deling City, President Krier impatiently watched the desert landscape move past the window of his limo and listened as his assistant sat across from him, attempting to set up a video conference on a laptop.

"Audio's no good. Try jiggling the connector," she said, then paused. "I don't think that worked. Do you have another headset?"

While Krier occasionally missed the days when global communication had been impossible, overwhelmed by the static signal coming from Adel's tomb circling above the planet, he felt intensely annoyed now that Nancy was struggling to make it work right when he really needed it. She never seemed to have problems when twenty journalists, every general in the army, plus all the nut-jobs who ranted on and on about "equal access" were simultaneously barraging every phone and video line in the presidential mansion.

"Are we going to be able to do this sometime today, Nancy?" he asked.

"It's not a problem on our end," she replied. "It's on theirs."

Fifteen more minutes of troubleshooting passed by before she was finally satisfied and transferred the computer to Krier's lap. Crecentia's blinking face was waiting quietly on the screen, slightly warped from the webcam. He lips started moving before he got the headset all the way on.

"...vening, President Krier."

There wasn't time for formalities. "What happened in Trabia?"

"Balamb Garden abandoned us in the crater."

"By _us_ you mean...?"

"Myself, Duran, the two from Esthar, and SeeDs Trepe and Dincht."

"Where are the others right now?"

Crecentia shrugged. "Duran is with me. We were both detained in Trabia Garden. The other four left days ago for Esthar and never came back."

"Why did they leave you behind? Did you give them a reason not to trust you?"

Her hesitation confirmed his suspicion. They'd screwed it up. "No, Sir. Duran was injured. And once the two from Esthar found out that Dr. Shipey had been arrested..."

"Who told them that?" Krier sincerely hoped that his people weren't really _that_ stupid.

"The SeeDs, Sir. They were at the dinner when it happened."

_Right. What a disaster._ Krier rubbed his chin and sighed. "Okay. Who has the weapon then? SeeD or--"

"No one does."

Krier tried his best to keep a straight and level face through this additional set-back. "No one does?" he asked after taking a moment to compose himself.

"There wasn't anything in the tomb."

The news washed over Krier slowly, taking time to thoroughly plow over everything he thought he'd known. No one had a weapon to use against Hyne, neither SeeD nor Dr. Odine. Which meant that either the tablets were entirely wrong or...

His eyes narrowed.

_Or it's somewhere else, and they're still looking for it._

His mind flashed on the abduction of Dr. Shipey from his base, and on the list of locations the professor had put together on their computers. He minimized the window on his conversation with Crecentia and browsed for the file. It opened on the screen in a plain text editor. There, in the number one slot, written in blocky font was "Deling City: Tomb of the Unknown King." Hours had already passed since the base attack. The SeeDs and Dr. Odine's men could easily already be there with the professor.

"Shit." He closed the laptop and shoved it back into his assistant's hands. "I need to be on the phone with my chief of staff in Deling in the next to minutes, Nancy. Or you're fired."

0 0 0

The Tomb of the Unknown King was significantly damper than Seifer had imagined it. He'd heard stories of the place during his summer vacation in Deling City. Looking now at the overgrown walls that smelled of mold and the tepid water collected in cracks on the floor, he suppose that none of the stories had come from people who'd really been to the place. For instance, no one had ever mentioned that the slime inside had gotten so dense that it had grown legs and come to life.

One particularly brazen lump dropped from the ceiling in front of them and began waving its stubby arms.

Zell leapt on top of it, but his fists punched right through its outer skin and came back covered in sticky, blue snot.

"Out of the way!" Quistis yelled. "Blizzaga!"

A cloud of foggy cold manifested in her palm and sailed over Zell's head to condense into a heavy block of ice around the monster. Inside the opaque crystal, the monster struggled to burn its way out, erupting in bright flashes of fire that fragmented into ribbons of red, yellow, and blue. The ice popped open with a warm splash, and one small, blue hand worked free before the monster was consumed by its own efforts and went still. Quistis walked up to the icy corpse, crossed her arms, and grunted.

"Not cooked to your liking?" Seifer asked.

"No. It's just...it doesn't usually take that long. One blizzaga is usually takes down a blobora in a second flat."

"Maybe you're getting old and out of practice."

"I really hope cactaur jabbed you in the back of the eyes for saying that," she replied, rising to the bait. She always did when her abilities were insulted.

"I thought you said this would be safe," Shipey said. Raijin had him by the elbow to keep him from running back out of the dark, smelly, monster infested tomb.

"It is," Zell said, though he wasn't very convincing as he was still trying to wipe blobora guts off his hands. "The real problem is getting lost since all the corridors look exactly the same. Real easy to get disoriented. Plus, the tomb used to be guarded by the brothers, but we defeated them with Squall. Huh, Quisty?"

"The brothers? You're joking."

"Who the fuck are the brothers?" Seifer asked, disliking the common knowledge shared by everyone in the group except for him.

"A guardian force," Quistis replied.

Shipey added to that his own, more detailed, response: "A pair of twin bulls, Sacred and Minotaur. They're both the royal emblem of the late kingdom Dollet dynasties and the..." Seifer stopped listening. This guy was a never-ending fountain of tedious facts and history lessons.

Aside from Shipey's voice, the tomb was quiet as they rounded yet another corner. Seifer's sense of direction was thoroughly scrambled, and he peeked over Quistis's shoulder to orient himself again. She had the map she'd bought in Deling City lying open across one arm and was following their progress with her index finger.

"If I remember correctly, the first wall should be just up ahead." She pointed into the dark.

Shipey started to step forward, but a buel cart-wheeled out of nowhere, startling him back. Seifer easily pinned it to the wall with Hyperion and blasted two of its wings loose. Raijin cheered him on as he levered the rest of the body off the point of his sword with his boot.

"Go on, Dr. Shipey." Raijin gave the professor a little shove. "It's safe now, ya know?"

Currents of fresh air drifted through the passage up ahead, slithering around a thick wall that rose up in the middle to block the way. Seifer stood in the middle of the one of the drafts and drank up cleansing breaths as Dr. Shipey approached the wall and murmured with small gasps of surprise and confusion. He pulled his tiny digital camera from his pocket and turned it on, letting the lens extend out and open.

"This is extraordinary," he said and took a photo, nearly blinding them all with the flash. "The last king of Dollet was buried here. They were one of the last direct, Centran lines."

He went on, running the pads of his fingertips across the chiseled writing. None of it looked very impressive to Seifer. The words, if they could be called that, were crude at best, made up of blocky lines that were only just discernable as letters, all capital and completely devoid of punctuation. The professor's lips moved as he read and his eyes scanned across the wall, zigzagging side to side until they reached the bottom.

"Anything of immediate interest to us?" Quistis asked.

"It seems to be something about..." he outlined a word between two fingers, brushing away some of the algae."God beasts."

"What's a god beast?" Zell asked.

"I don't know. It's a literal translation. I've never seen this word before."

"Maybe it's the guardian forces that were here, ya know?" Raijin suggested, somehow able to utilize a keener logic than the two SeeDs and the university professor combined.

_So much for formal education..._

"It could be," Shipey acknowledged. "You said there was another wall just like this one?"

"On the opposite side of the tomb." Quistis opened the map and pointed to it.

"Great," Seifer said on a sigh. "I was hoping we'd get to see more of this prime real estate. I'm going to contract some sort of flesh eating fungus before we get the hell out of here."

Dr. Shipey took thirty-seven more photos (Seifer counted them) before they could start across the tomb again, and on the way he was so absorbed with cycling through them on his camera's display that Raijin had to conduct him along like a blind man's dog, ushering him past hazards like sizzling fragments of defeated bombs and festering, stagnant pools.

"There are quite a few proper names in here I don't recognize," Shipey announced as they finished battling another blobora. "Some of them could be figures from Dollet's history. I admit, it's not exactly my area. But a lot of them sound Trabian to me."

"I didn't think ancient Dollet and ancient Trabia had any contact with each other," Zell said.

Quistis was preoccupied with the aftermath of their battle. She shoved the icy carcass out of the way and asked Zell, "Do you think the monsters have gotten stronger since the last time we were here?"

"Eh...not really. I'm not having any trouble with 'em."

"Me neither," Seifer added.

She frowned and they continued through the tomb for what seemed like an eternity before another wall broke the monotony, though it was exactly like the one they'd just come from. Again, Shipey snapped photographs while the rest of them waited.

"I don't see how this is helping us find the weapon," Seifer complained. "We can't track down and read everything ever written in ancient...whatever."

"And we can't just scour the face of the globe for an object that hasn't been seen in thousands of years," Quistis replied. "We don't even know what it is. I think the more we know, the better."

"Maybe there is no weapon. The tablets said it'd be inside Hyne's tomb, and you guys said there was nothing there," Seifer replied. "If there's no weapon, then maybe there's no big return of Hyne and Rinoa's just gone bat-shit crazy on you."

"You didn't see her, Man. That was _not_ Rinoa," Zell said with a shake of his head, then turned to Dr. Shipey. "What's it say? More about the god beasts?"

"No. This one is mostly a list of dynasties. You see how they mark royal names by ending them with this sign?" He pointed to a small, three pointed etching that repeated regularly across most of the wall. "The last one must be our unknown king...finally with a name again, after all these years. There's more at the bottom that's not names, but it's hard to make out. Someone wrote directions on how to get back to the entrance over it."

"Something useful at least," Seifer said.

Shipey was still taking pictures, and Seifer had found a dry place to sit and lean back against the wall when the scream of a dying buel came echoing through the empty corridors to make the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Silence fell again as the cries of the animal were carried away and overwhelmed by the gurgle of running water from the middle of the tomb where a wide moat surrounded the burial chamber.

"Did you hear what direction that came from?" Quistis asked. Save the Queen unfurled, brilliant gold in her hands.

Seifer pointed in one direction; Zell in the other.

"Oh come on! You're deaf _and_ dumb? It came from that way. I heard it."

"I did, too, Seifer! And it was definitely--"

Zell was cut off and the argument resolved as the muffled explosion from a bomb going kamikaze shook dirt from the ceiling and turned every head, including Dr. Shipey's, in the direction Seifer's hand was still pointing: toward the entrance to the tomb.

"I think the Galbadians are here now, ya know?" Raijin said.

"Great. Come on. We have to get out of here now before they find us," Quistis said.

"They're just a bunch of soldiers. We can take them." Even accounting for the fact that Quistis and Zell were mediocre mercenaries, the mission to the base had proven that they were still worth at least ten Galbadian soldiers a piece.

"I don't want to take a chance while we've got the professor with us," she snapped. "We need to keep him as far away from President Krier as we can. Raijin, grab him. We need to move _fast_."

Raijin plucked the professor up off the ground and held him under one arm like a football, then jogged after Quistis as she darted away and turned right around a corner. Seifer had to sprint to catch up with her.

"Aren't you going the wrong way?" he asked. "The door is that way." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

"We can go out the back way." She was rolling up the map and stuffing it inside her jacket as she jogged. "There's a stream that runs along the back portion of the tomb. It's not on the map, but there's another exit there, so long as you're willing to get a little wet."

It was the coward's way out, Seifer thought. He was dizzy with deja vu. Here they were, running again through labyrinthine hallways, trying to escape with the professor as if _he_ were the weapon. And this time, they weren't even going to fight. It didn't sit right with him. _We should at least take down a few guys; let these bastards know we mean business._ Sneaking out like this, the Galbadians might never even know they were there. And he couldn't build heroic status and fame on the basis of a shadow.

"Hurry up," Quistis chided when he began to slow down, weighted by his thoughts.

She ducked into a chamber that was plain and square, with a water wheel spinning past a door that led outside and pulley dangling half out of the wall. Dark, frothy water was rushing past, spinning the wheel and filling the entire room with clinging mist.

"I thought you said it was a stream!" Seifer yelled, elbowing Quistis in the side.

"It is!"

"No. That's a fucking _river_!"

"Shh!" She pressed a finger hard to her lips and glared at Seifer. Outside the chamber, he heard two men run past.

"You afraid you can't swim it?" Zell whispered. "You'll float just fine with that fat head of yours."

"More worried about the professor's camera, dim-wit," Seifer hissed.

"I'll keep it safe." Raijin dropped the professor onto his feet and ripped the digital camera from his hand. "I can keep it above the water. I'm a great swimmer, ya know?"

"Good. We'll hold hands so we don't get separated," Quistis suggested. "Raijin, you'll have to be on one of the ends."

Immediately, Raijin seized one of Dr. Shipey's hands, and Quistis grabbed one of Zell's. Standing between the two paired up couples, Seifer felt distinctly left out and a little insulted. "I don't need anyone to hold my hand," he began, but a nearby gunshot and shout stopped him.

"Zell, take Dr. Shipey's other hand," Quistis ordered, then grabbed Seifer's with her own. It was strange, holding her hand, so small and warm. He tried to pull away, but she held fast and was much stronger than he'd expected.

"Quick. Before they find us." She urged him toward the door.

In the dark, Seifer couldn't tell where the water began and dark, damp stone ended. So he jumped and hoped for the best, dragging everyone else behind him like leaden tail. For a split second, he felt the night air around him, fresh after spending so long in the tomb, and then a forgiving surface under his feet. In the next heartbeat, he was engulfed. A sucker punch of shadowy cold soaked immediately through his clothing and washed up over his head, lifting one flap of his coat in its haste and plastering the material against his mouth. Already he could feel the pull of the current tugging against his fingers where they were locked with Quistis's.

Like a stone, he sank to the bottom, and when he felt his boots drag against the rocky, river bed, he kicked up again to the surface.

He sucked in a chestful of air and heard Quistis do the same next to him. Down the line Zell, Dr. Shipey, and Raijin all popped up -- Raijin with one fist in the air, protecting the digital camera from the deadly grip of the river. Seifer spun around, trying to see how far the river had taken them from the tomb, but couldn't see it above the river bank. And aside from the sound of his heartbeat rattling in his ears, the night was silent. No gunfire. No shouts. No one had ever known they were there.

"How's it going, Raijin?" Quistis asked, craning her neck to look at him.

"Dry as a bone," he said and grinned. "Told ya I was a great swimmer."

Under the water, Seifer's foot impacted a rock, twisting him to the side and bending their line.

He groaned, sure that blood was now pouring from a gash in his ankle. "Watch out for rocks."

Seconds later, Zell tugged the line back as well and winced with pain. Then so did Dr. Shipey. The entire river was an underwater obstacle course.

They tucked up their feet as far as they could and rode the current around a bend and under a small, wooden bridge. Seifer's free hand smacked into one of the pylons as they passed it and he swore loud and lusty as it stung, hardly helped by the numbing effects of the cold river.

"We should get out! We've gone far enough!" he bellowed.

"No. A little further. Just to be safe," Quistis replied.

"What? You want to wait until something takes my head off?"

"That would be nice. Yes."

Seifer was surprised by the insult and turned to her open mouthed. She grinned, satisfied with herself. And then, tragedy struck.

They snagged on a thick, spongy patch of moss. Seifer hit first and was too overwhelmed by water splashing up over his face as he lurched to a stop to warn anyone else of the danger. Quistis crashed into him and stuck to the sticky plants as well. She screamed and gave a sharp jerk as her hand and Zell's broke free of one another, leaving them stranded alone in shallow water as Zell, Dr. Shipey, and Raijin sped downstream.

"Ze--!" she started, but choked on the water that came roaring down her throat.

Seifer tried to reprimand her for letting go and for not listening to him in the first place, but he was being pushed under by Quistis' weight on top of him and the current which was still cresting over his back and plastering him against the bed of moss. He thrashed in a panic, able to get his free hand out of the water but only able to catch brief snatches of air. In his chest, his lungs were burning, aching for the breath that was being pushed out of them and blue spots danced along the inside of his eyelids.

"Qui--!" He managed to grab onto a fistful of her hair which was flying loose. "You're going to-" _kill me!_

He pulled on her hair, and he heard her scream again when his face broke through to the surface. Her hair felt slick and slimy in his hands, but he had a good enough grip to pull her off him and toss her back into the uninterrupted current of the river. With a cry, she went under and nearly pulled him off the moss with her death grip on his hand. Unrestrained, his legs swung out, but he somehow managed to hold firm and drag Quistis back into the shallow water.

"You son of a bitch!" She breached out of the water like a dolphin. "You tried to drown me!"

Seifer tried to duck out of the way, but she her aim was true and she hit him with a balled up, frozen fist right in the eye. He saw stars.

They thrashed their way to shore. Seifer flopped up onto the river bank, beaten, bruised, and too out of breath to yell at Quistis for hitting him. She collapsed next to him. They sat in silence until Seifer stopped feeling phantom river currents along his skin. Then, Quistis sat up, gripping her head.

"Do you see them?" she asked, looking downstream.

"No."

She swore quietly and moved to get up. Her voice sounded raw with the oath.

Seifer stood up with her on weak, numb legs and shook his hand free.

"Nice plan," he said as he took his coat off and began to wring it out. "That was so much better than battling through a couple dozen, witless Galbadian soldiers."

"It would have gone fine, except for you," she snapped. She bowed her elbows and glared at him, but the effect was ruined by the tender wobbling of her knees.

"You're the one who had the bright idea to throw us all into a river." He sighed and spun the bullet chamber on his gunblade open. Water dribbled out each hole onto his boots. "Looks like Hyperion is out of action for a while. Not to mention my left eye. Sucker's going to swell shut with as hard as you hit it."

She snarled at him and fired a cure spell at his face so forcefully it was nearly a slap.

"Let's just go find everyone else so we can get out of here," she said and hobbled stiffly away from him. Bemused and a little intrigued, Seifer followed.

The pain in his eye was easing enough as they walked for him to notice that he clothing was glued to every contour of her body. He watched closely as she lifted her arms to squeeze water from her hair. It wasn't a bad view. She was more pleasant from behind, he decided, than from the front, even if she was stumbling from the cold.

His joints were just beginning to thaw and limber up again when they found the others struggling to get up on the bank where Zell had caught onto a tree root with his hand. Raijin was still holding the camera above his head, and he waved it at Seifer when he saw them approaching.

"What happened to you guys?" Zell asked. "You okay?"

"Fine," Quistis said tightly. "How about you?"

"We're good."

Seifer helped Dr. Shipey and Raijin up out of the water.

"Never liked above ground mortuary temples," Shipey muttered. "Always so damn and dirty and dangerous..."

A gravel road cut through the grass a few feet from the bank and crossed at the wooden bridge they had passed under on their way downstream. It was a safe bet that in this part of the world all roads led to Deling City, so they started down it, leaving a half-hearted, muddy trail behind them. Zell checked the digital camera for damage as they traveled, turning it on and cycling through all the photos before he was satisfied and handed it back to the professor.

Such a small thing. A photograph. And one man who could tell the entire world what it meant.

It irritated Seifer that Dr. Shipey was their most valuable asset, that a man who'd spent his entire life nose down in a book was going to be the one to defeat the most powerful malevolent force on the planet. Quistis, Zell, and even Raijin were crowded around him, circling like a pack of dogs around a newborn pup. And he lagged behind, not quite part of the group and not really certain why he wasn't the leader yet. He was clearly the alpha male. Strongest. Fastest. Deadliest. Why should this little man be the one who'd save them?

"Hurry up, Seifer," Quistis said.

It didn't bode well for the fate of the world, he thought, that he did just what she asked: jogged up to the rest of them and fell into a walk beside her. If men like Dr. Shipey could win epic battles, and men like him were taking orders from bedraggled, little blondes, then something in the natural order was clearly no longer functioning. Still, it didn't feel so bad to walk there beside her.

0 0 0

President Krier threw open the door of his limo and stepped out before it had stopped all the way, wringing a strangled cry from his body guard who lurched out the door after him. The Tomb of the Unknown King lurked in the deep, pre-dawn darkness, a square, crumbling building of black stone blocks. A group of soldiers were standing in front of the entrance, in the middle of a bridge spanning a slow moving stream that coursed around the structure. They stiffened and saluted when they spotted him approaching.

"Sir!" they barked in unison.

"Report!" he demanded.

"We've been combing the tomb for two and a half hours now," one of them said. "As you requested. It's completely overrun with monsters, and it's tricky to navigate, but as far as we can tell there is no one inside, Sir."

Krier wouldn't allow himself to give into the relief that threatened to overwhelm him with false surety. It paid to be skeptical.

"Are there signs that anyone has been here in the past week?" he asked.

"Hard to tell," the soldier replied. "There are a lot of dead monsters inside, some of them still froze in blocks of ice. It could have been the work of SeeDs or very well trained Garden cadets. But our men have ice magic as well, and we can't say for certain that _we_ didn't kill those monsters."

Impatience and frustration tugged at the edges of Krier's self-restraint.

"Other than that, there's nothing unusual in the tomb?"

"We found a crypt in the middle. But the sarcophagus is broken open and the body is gone. And there's some funny writing on the...I think...east and west walls."

Both bits of news gave Krier pause. The broken sarcophagus could mean that they'd found something there and had taken it with them. And the writing, considering they probably had Bob Shipey with them, could have contained important information on the location of the weapon. Assuming, of course, that anyone had been there at all. Maybe Shipey hadn't shared with them his list of locations.

"Keep searching," he said. "If there's anyone in there who shouldn't be, I want them found."

"Yes, Sir!"

Krier turned in such haste he nearly ran into his body guard. He shoved the man out of the way and headed back toward the car. _I don't even need a body guard_, he thought irritably. It was obvious that if the SeeDs and Shipey had been there, he'd missed them. Whatever they had found, if anything, his best bet still was with trying to find them at their next stop. And he knew where they would be heading. He could have men on the way to every location on Shipey's list before daylight.

He wouldn't miss them again. He couldn't afford to.

Of course, a large scale deployment like that would take a good cover story.

Fortunately, he had a damn good one.

War after all. But one day, the world would thank him for it. He'd do anything to make sure that the SeeDs and Dr. Odine didn't get to the weapon first.

"Nancy," he began when he got back into the car. "I'm going to make an address, first to my cabinet and then to the public. Get a pen. Here's what I want to say..."

0 0 0

Back on the ship, Quistis took off her boots and set them upside down on top of one of the air vents, hoping they might dry faster there. Dr. Shipey was already at one of the terminals uploading his photos by the time they took off, running again with the lights on. It was a welcome relief from the chilly dark. As she sat down, removing all the layers of wet clothing that she could, Quistis became fully aware of how exhausted she was. She hadn't slept or eaten since leaving Esthar and was coming up on empty now: stomach growling, muscles liquid, eyes burning.

"WHERE?" Fujin asked.

Quistis let her head fall back against the headrest, wincing as the sore spot where Seifer had pulled her hair rubbed against the leather. She didn't want to say that she didn't know, but..._damn, where to from here?_

"As long as there's food, I'm cool with just about anywhere," Zell announced. "How about you, Quisty? Food. Right?"

She sighed. "Why don't you just make yourself a sandwich?"

"Quisty! I mean _real_ food! A man can't live on sandwiches alone."

"Which means Zell will survive, but me and Raij are gonna starve," Seifer added.

"Dude! Do you ever turn off?" Zell tossed a river-wet glove across the cockpit at Seifer. "Don't you ever feel like taking a break from being an asshole once and a while?"

"You make it so easy, Chicken Wuss. It's hardly any effort at all." Seifer laughed.

Quistis's nerves were already raw and aching, and though their bickering grated on them further, she was relieved at the change of subject. Talk of restaurants and hotels was the last thing she wanted floating around. Her pocketbook was already perilously devoid of gil. Buying Zell, Seifer, and Raijin dinner would do more than just bankrupt her; she'd probably have to contract herself out as slave labor in the restaurant's kitchen just to cover half their ticket if all three got going.

"ESTHAR?" Fujin suggested.

"I can do this without Odine's help," Shipey objected. "I just need some time to work out a good translation. He doesn't read Ancient Centran. His specialty is just sorceresses."

"Why do you need so much time to do it?" Seifer asked. "You know the language, right? So, why can't you just read it? Seems pretty easy to me. Unless you just don't want to tell us what it says."

"It's not that simple. Languages change over time. Ancient Centran written one thousand years ago isn't the same as ancient Centran written four thousand years ago. And it's not the same regionally. The writing in Esthar is drastically different from the writing in Dollet. Plus, there's shorthand to consider, and the sometimes bad penmanship of ancient craftsmen..."

"Okay! I get it! It'll take a while."

"BALAMB?" Fujin persistently suggested.

"Yeah! We can stay with my mom!" Zell sat bolt upright in his chair.

"No way. You want to go visit your mommy at the coop, Chicken Wuss?" Seifer teased. "It's fine for you, but I'm not sure there will be room for the rest of us under her fat, feathery ass."

"You take that back about my mom!"

"Zell..." Quistis warned, too tired to break up another fight. Too exhausted to deal with it.

"How about Dollet?" Dr. Shipey suddenly said, earning a flood of affection from Quistis. "Old Dollet is full of ruins."

Zell's fists unclenched and the insult was forgotten. "Whoa! Yeah! That's perfect!'

"Any objections?" Quistis asked, looking directly at Seifer. He was by far the most likely to disagree just for the sake of causing strife. She couldn't think of a single decision she'd made so far that he hadn't thoroughly bitched about, and perhaps it was because this particular plan hadn't come directly from her that he immediately nodded his approval.

"Dollet it is then," she announced. "Fujin, set a course."

The aircraft banked and started off in a new direction. Back to Dollet, _home_ for Seifer and his posse.

She wondered if they would settle back into their lives there and leave her and Zell to pursue the weapon on their own, and whether the mission might go better that way. At least they would have peace and agreement. At least she would feel at harmony with herself and the world before it came crashing to an end...before Squall would skewer her through the back with his gunblade. That thought still hurt, and her heart clenched when she remembered the casual way he'd turned on her in Garden. In that one moment, Seifer had earned his keep as part of the team by coming to her rescue.

_Damn it._

They needed him. Or, they would when it came time to confront the couple once again.

Part of Quistis still wasn't sure she'd be able to look Squall in the eye and destroy the love of his life. She couldn't betray him like that. Seifer, on the other hand, had never had any qualms with that.

Zell and Raijin both fell asleep in their seats, mouths open and fingers twitching. Their soft, regular breathing beat an odd rhythm against the pencil scratching and grumbling from Dr. Shipey, who'd had more rest than all of them and so was contently working, much more comfortable teasing meaning from the obscure symbols than he had been at any moment on their course through the Tomb of the Unknown King. Quistis tucked her knees up in her chair and tried to sleep as well. Though she was tired enough, exhausted really, she couldn't drift off. And relaxing proved even more difficult when Seifer sat down beside her.

"Do you need something?" she asked quietly.

"No."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Sitting."

"Next to me?"

"It's a seat. I'm sitting in it. What makes you think it has anything to do with you?"

"I don't want you sitting next to me," she said. "And you've got a whole ship to wander. Why don't you go bother someone else?"

"I'm not trying to _bother_ you. I'm just sitting here. I wasn't even talking to you. What's your problem?"

He looked at her like he was completely oblivious to the way her scalp still sizzled with pain, or that she could still feel the lingering bubble of water in her throat.

"With you, it's just a matter of time," she replied, aware of a creeping crankiness taking over her motor functions.

He frowned a little. Just a tiny, downward twitch at the sides of his mouth. And immediately she wanted to apologize, but she fought the instinct. Saying she was sorry would only show him that she was weak, that he could push her around without consequence. And even though she knew he would never follow her orders obediently, she still wanted at least a modicum of respect.

"You must be really lonely, you know that?" he grunted. "Your social skills are incredible. It's no wonder you never had any friends when you were a cadet. Always all alone with your books in the library."

"I don't want to hear about it right now," she replied flatly.

"Just saying. You're not really capable of relating to others."

"Seifer..."

She'd tried to relate to him, or at least understand him, but with every hour she spent in his company, she became more convinced that he didn't possess any real emotions. He walked blithely through the world without a care for those around him or what they thought of him, bullying everyone within shouting distance and resting on an unflappable pedestal of arrogance that no amount of abuse could crack or topple. When he'd been her student so long ago, she'd thought he'd been troubled and had even approached Cid with concerns that some catastrophic event in his childhood was the hidden impetus behind his unruly behavior. She'd wanted to cure him of his torment, but Cid had assured her that Seifer was not hiding a tragic past of any sort.

Now as she looked at him, sitting beside her, she remembered how much easier it had been to feel sympathy and forgiveness for him when she could imagine him as a frightened little boy watching his mother die, or a creature forged of the most stubborn stuff by his father's heavy fist. It was hard to accept that maybe he was just a run of the mill jerk, an unfortunate case of antisocial personality disorder. Once she'd let go of her terrible fantasy, she'd lost interest in him as a student...as a human being.

"What?" he asked, squinting his hot, green eyes at her. "Now _you're_ bothering _me_."

_Good._ He never did seem to get enough of his own, bitter medicine.

Saying nothing, Quistis got up and walked over to where Dr. Shipey was working. Several books were spread open in front of him and the screen was displaying one of his photos from the tomb, zoomed in on a square of corroded writing. It reminded her of the large blocks of text she'd seen decorating the tomb in Trabia, painted in thick columns and mingling with the vivid scenes decorating the walls. Maybe, she thought, they should go back to the tomb and read what was written there. What other place was more likely to contain solid information on the second coming of Hyne? But she lost the thought as she leaned over the professor's shoulder and read what he was writing.

Under his hand, he'd copied passages from the walls and was slowly translating words and adding modern syntax on a third line. The word he'd mentioned before, god beasts, caught her eye and she scanned quickly across his page:

_The moon and the stars will grow heavy and fester. And then the god beasts will fall in a pillar of fire from the heavens. Anarchy will be loosed upon the world, and all that is earthly will be unable to hold against them. Only the red dragon, many times blessed by the unknowable, will be able to stand against the bloody tide of the god beasts. And when the hour comes round at last, and the wintry grip of the destroyer..._

Dr. Shipey had put a question mark there, next to the word _destroyer_ and scribbled an illegible note. Still, what Quistis had read gave her a sharp chill.

_Lunar Cry._

Centra itself had been destroyed by one. She dearly hoped that the reference was a historical one, a coincidence. Because a Lunar Cry, a real one not artificially induced by the Lunatic Pandora, was among the most devastating forces known to man. The entire continent of Centra was still largely uninhabited.

"Please don't watch me over my shoulder like that," Dr. Shipey said, then put a hand over his work. "It's really distracting."

"Yeah. Stop bothering the professor," Seifer announced with false authority ringing clear in his voice. "How long until we're back in Dollet, Fu? I'd kill for a long, hot shower. Or better, the hot tub on the deck."

"MORNING."

"Think Raij will be up for making breakfast?"

She smiled at him, a delicate little thing, and with a surprisingly soft voice replied, "He'd better."

"Ughn...huh?" Zell groaned and came awake. "Breakfast?"

"Not yet, Chicken Wuss. Go back to sleep."

"Guhh...yeah...okay."

As Zell drifted back to sleep, Seifer turned and gestured to Quistis. "You up for a round in the hot tub when we get back to Dollet? You, me, and Fu. Yeah?"

"I don't think so," she replied, a flash of embarrassment ripping through her and somehow displacing the dread Shipey's translation had drudged up. She couldn't think about doomsday prophecies, Squall's tragic love for Rinoa, or monsters raining down from the sky while Seifer was sitting there, clearly imagining her naked.

"Why not?" he asked. "Promise I won't try and drown you, if that's what you're worried about."

Quistis' stomach fluttered and she had to cross her arms to keep the unruly organ in place. The question didn't merit a response, so she didn't give him one. It was useless talking to him anyway. The damn man just didn't make sense. Plus, she found she would _rather_ think about the second coming of Hyne than Seifer in a hot tub. Somehow, the latter seemed so much more treacherous.


	13. Things Fall Apart

A/N: I've heard that some of you are having trouble leaving reviews. An explanation: when I took down "Dreams of Esdraelon" and reposted it as "This Final Heaven," I didn't create a new story ID number. So if you reviewed way back when, you won't be able to submit a signed review for the same numbered chapter in the new story. It's entirely my fault, and I'm sorry, but it shouldn't be an issue anymore after this chapter. If you feel compelled to leave feedback, feel perfectly free to review anonymously, send me a PM, an email, or leave a comment on any post in my live journal.

Chapter 12: Things Fall Apart

In the lemony light of dawn, Balamb Garden was hushed and groggy. Squall's footfalls sounded heavy against the tile, so he slowed as he walked through the dormitory wing. He'd left Rinoa behind in bed purring peacefully and was very aware of her absence. It made him tired to be without her, though it also leveled the surface of his mind, clearing away the dreamy cobwebs. He took a deep breath and rode the automatic rock and pull of his feet away from the dorms, out into the main hallway.

Lightheaded, he walked to the training center, which he knew would be empty. The shrill cry of early rising birds and the chill of midnight dew met him a he started off on one of the often used trails that circled across the pond, skirted the back of the center, and then went back to the door.

_One round ought to do it._

He needed the time to think, time to wrap up in himself away from Rinoa and work. Despite the pressure his friends put on him to open up, Squall still valued his solitude and was fueled by time spent in repose and reflection. Lately though, Rinoa had been absorbing all of his social energy, and he'd spent every waking moment tied in a knot of love pains. He hadn't been able to find the space to sit and think about everything that had happened. And he knew he needed to, because eventually he would have to talk to Irvine and Selphie.

But how could he tell them they'd been betrayed? Saying it out loud would release it from the realm of thought and into the cold, hard basis of reality. Once he said it, it couldn't be undone. And he was still hoping that somehow it would all prove to be a mistake.

Passing by the spot were Irvine had been found, beaten bloody by Seifer and his posse, Squall paused and gave it time to sink in.

And it chilled his blood.

His heart ached at the breach of trust he'd thought he had -- especially with Quistis.

The memory of her standing on the bridge with Save the Queen in her hand was dazzling and brilliant in his mind, as was the sound of her voice admitting that the frantic calls from Selphie were her doing, that she'd let Seifer in. Past that, his recollection was tormented by the sharp pain of cactaur needles and the surprise of feeling a strong Hyperion parrying his Lionheart. His gut turned over when he thought about it.

He swung his gunblade at a grat with such gusto that a tentacle tore loose and flew off the end of his weapon to wrap around a tree branch where it dangled limply, dripping green slime onto the ground.

After two more circuits of the training center, Squall was thoroughly filthy and still conflicted. Maybe, he thought, he wouldn't bring it up. Selphie and Irvine never had to know.

He was on his way to the locker room for a much needed shower when he overheard voices from down the hall. Curious and uneasy to interrupt, he stopped and waited. And, against his better judgment, he listened.

"All I'm saying is that it seems strange," said a voice. Xu. Squall recognized her holier-than-thou tone.

"He hasn't said anything to me," someone replied. Selphie -- an odd combination.

"Haven't you asked?"

"No. I've been with Irvy in the infirmary."

Squall shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He hadn't even thought about visiting Irvine. He'd been too wrapped up with...with...what? With Rinoa?

"We're coming up on Galbadia Garden now," Xu said. "And I can't shake the feeling something's going to happen. It can't be good for us to even be in the area after what happened. I don't know why we didn't just go back to Balamb in the first place. But now we're in Galbadian water. You should ask him what's going on."

"Have you ever tried that?" Selphie asked incredulously. "You can't just walk up to him and be all, 'Hey! What's up?' He's secretive, and guarded, and...deep! I'm sure he's got a good reason."

"We haven't gotten a mission statement," Xu replied. "The faculty is starting to ask me questions, and I don't know what to tell them."

"How about...we're going on vacation!" Selphie giggled. "Sounds like fun. We really should."

"I'm serious," Xu warned.

The low pitch of her voice made Squall step into a defensive position against the wall, cobwebs spinning thick and hoary in his head again. Suspicious, he listened on, careful not to make a sound as the two continued their early morning rendezvous. Quistis and Xu had been good friends. Was it possible...?

"Nida says we're not stopping in Galbadia, that we're going to Centra," she whispered conspiratorially. "And he says Squall didn't give him any reason, just said to set a new course. We haven't even contacted Laguna to tell him the Trabia mission is off. And I haven't seen anyone from the crater mission or received their debriefings. Have you? Quistis, or Zell, or anybody?"

"Irvy says he saw Quisty and Zell in the training center before the attack."

He'd seen them, Squall realized, and then they'd left Seifer behind to deal with the inconvenient disruption of their plan.

"Something's not right," Xu declared. "Even the way he cut off the crater mission was strange. He paged Irvine, you know, to go look for Quistis and Zell, and then fifteen minutes later Irvine came up to me on the bridge and told me it was all over." There was a long silence, and then Xu added, "I'm going to talk to the Headmaster about it."

Squall caught himself reaching for his gunblade and stopped, horrified.

_What are you doing? They're your friends. They're Rinoa's friends._

Genuine friendship was a valuable commodity these days. A dark part of his heart wondered whether they'd turn against him once they found out Quistis and Zell were on the other side. Did they have a better, stronger bond? One that might breach the high divide of right and wrong?

He drew his arms close about himself, locking Lionheart against the flesh of his thigh with his elbow and withdrew into the rainy doubt that had haunted him from birth -- the one thing Laguna had managed to give him. Everyone left eventually: they moved on to bigger things, or found new relationships, or they died. He felt alone and frightened as he slipped back into the training center.

Quistis and Zell had been ready to kill him, perfectly willing to go through him to get to Rinoa. And now Xu and Selphie were plotting some sort of...sort of...? What? A revolution? Was he about to be deposed as Garden's commander?

Confused, he rubbed a tender spot between his eyes with the heel of his palm and tried to clear his head, but the fog refused to lift. He felt disoriented, like he'd slept too long or like the world was about to slip out from underneath his feet.

He leaned against the wall, which was grainy with pollen under his clammy fist.

Outside the training center door, he heard Xu and Selphie walk by, exchanging pleasantries as they parted ways, as if nothing had happened in the hallway at all. They'd look him in the face later that day and smile, ask him how Rinoa was doing, and pretend as if they weren't whispering behind his back. Whispering that he was--

Squall shook his head.

_What? That I'm...what?_

It didn't make sense. His mind was spinning on greased tracks, running out of control, and the solid foundation he'd thought he had to stand on was crumbling underneath him.

Quistis, Zell...Xu. Who was next?

Maybe everyone.

He closed his eyes -- tight, until he saw spots dancing across the dark.

_When did this happen?_ he wondered.

Betrayal, confusion, suspicion, loss: the perfect and hopeful life he'd been leading was gone, had maybe never been there in the first place. But he'd been happy for a while, he thought. Until now.

Now..._I'm falling apart._

0 0 0

Morning had dawned clear and pleasant in Dollet. The soft sunlight was curled lovingly around Quistis as she followed Raijin and Fujin up to their understated home, reluctant to admit that she felt a soft blush of comfort looking up at the blooming flower boxes and the cherry wood lattice around the windows. What would it be like, she wondered, to spend weary evenings in a place like this? All she'd ever known was communal living, from the orphanage to the Garden dorms; she'd never had a place of her own. And certainly never a place as welcoming as this one.

"Good to be home, ya know?" Raijin said as he took the steps two at a time.

"RELIEF," Fujin agreed.

_Seifer's_ house. It was still difficult to believe.

But there he was, pushing past her and through the door. She followed him into the kitchen where he retrieved a glass from one of the cupboards and filled it with water from the tap. She leaned against the counter and watched him drink as Raijin got down on his knees and began digging through the pantry.

"What're you gonna make?" Seifer asked and leaned over Raijin's back with his half empty glass to rifle through the shelves as well.

"I thought you were from Garden," Dr. Shipey said, drawing Quistis' attention. He was standing beside the kitchen table, his books clutched tight against his chest.

Quistis pulled out a chair for him to sit in. "We are. Me and Zell, anyway. Seifer, Raijin, and Fujin are no longer associated with Balamb Garden."

"Oh. Of course. I guess they wouldn't be." He paused and looked around. "So this is their house?"

"Yeah..."

"Hey! Watch it, ya know!" Raijin bellowed from inside the pantry. Seifer swore loudly before he was forcefully ejected from the cramped closet. Red faced, he took a place at the table across from Quistis and didn't offer any explanation. She'd never seen him more cowed and stared across the expanse of glossy birch with her mouth hanging slack. The scathing look he gave her made her mouth snap shut again, though she made a mental note to ask Raijin later what he'd done.

"Oh man...I'm so hungry." Zell flopped down into the chair next to Quistis and clutched his stomach so hard that his face nearly touched the surface of the table. "I think I could eat a whole chocobo."

"Wouldn't that be cannibalism?" Seifer asked sourly.

"Dude. Right now, I'm not completely opposed to the idea," Zell replied in all seriousness. "Though I'd really prefer some hot dogs. You know. Some big, juicy, luscious hot dogs...ohh yeah..."

"Shit. Don't blow your load all over my kitchen, Wuss."

Raijin heated up a long, flat griddle on the stove top and, with more elegance than Quistis had ever seen him display in battle, whipped up a creamy batter in a plastic bowl, each hand moving independently to add ingredients. Cooking was not a talent that she possessed, so she watched with no small amount of awe as he poured the batter into perfect circles and, as if by magic, created a plateful of fluffy crepes in under fifteen minutes. Intense hunger only kicked in when he brought them to the table, and she shifted uneasily in her seat as he calmly delivered a bowl of strawberry jam, another of chocolate mousse, and a tall pitcher of pulpy orange juice as well.

Not since she'd been a weary cadet had Quistis enjoyed a meal more.

Her first crepe she slathered unevenly with jam and then shoved half the rolled up delicacy into her mouth. Her stomach pitched and growled, devouring every morsel she gave it until she'd gone through three crepes and two glasses of orange juice. Still, she wanted more, and couldn't resist swiping one finger through the empty chocolate mousse bowl. Rolling her chocolatey finger around in his mouth, she closed her eyes and sighed.

Slowly, she pulled the digit from her lips.

"Raijin, I think I'd marry you just to get this every morning."

Under the table, Seifer kicked her in the shin, shocking her eyes open. He was regarding her with a twisted, unpleasant expression.

"What was _that_ for?" she asked.

He feigned ignorance. "What was _what_ for?"

Ignoring them, Zell slammed down his empty juice glass and said to Raijin, "I agree with Quisty. You got a gift, Man."

Raijin blushed and rubbed the back of his head with a floury hand, leaving fingerprints there. "It's just a hobby, ya know?"

"This isn't a hobby," Zell said, indicating his empty plate. "It's a calling."

The six sat around the crowded table in stuffed silence, growing heavy and weary while Quistis silently contemplated whether a revenge kick to Seifer's shin would be too childish (she didn't want to embarrass herself any more than necessary in front of Dr. Shipey). Fujin's unpatched eye fluttered closed, then back open; Zell began visibly teetering on his chair; and Dr. Shipey was looking down at his hands without ever glancing back up. Only Seifer seemed completely unaffected as he leaned back in his chair and hooked his thumbs on the front of his pants.

"So, what do you say?" he asked and kicked Quistis under the table again, more gently this time but still hard enough to make her wish she'd retaliated to begin with. "Hot tubbing?"

"I already said no."

He rolled his eyes.

"Fujin?"

Her eye snapped open again. "TIRED."

He sighed dramatically. "I can't go on my own. So one of you has to come with me."

"LATER."

"Yeah," Quistis agreed. "I just want to go to bed." A gaping yawn broke through in time to prove her point.

"Fine. You might as well go then," he said, crossing his arms.

Her processing powers weren't up to their usual speed. "Go? Where?"

"To your hotel."

Everything that had felt so pleasant and forgiving about Seifer and his home moments before shattered: the acidic aftertaste of orange juice in her throat, the over-full grumbling of her stomach, the glossy finish of the tabletop now marred with sticky fingerprints. All of it was suddenly unwelcoming and forbidden, drawn away by this vindictive man with a heart of solid granite. Quistis felt like leaping across the table and beating him senseless.

"You expect us to stay in a hotel?" she choked out.

"Uh...yeah. Why wouldn't you?"

"Dude. I don't even_ want _to stay here," Zell said. "I'd much rather stay in the hotel than here with you."

"You gonna take back all that love poetry about Raijin's cooking?" Seifer asked. "Just let us know what room you're staying in, case we need to come save the professor or anything." He stood up, signaling that the conversation was over, and stretched long enough that his fingers grazed the ceiling. Then, with nothing more than a half-hearted wave, he vanished out the back door, presumably to get into the hot tub alone after all.

Zell turned to Quistis, who was flaming so hot and so intensely with horror and rage that she felt the back of her eyes burning.

"We don't need to put up with that kinda crap," he said. "We're ten times better off without him anyway."

The fact that Zell so poorly understood their situation only served to incense her further.

"No," she replied firmly, surprised at how level and sane her voice sounded. "We're going to stay here. There's no point in splitting up. We're staying, whether he likes it or not."

"Ain't gonna be easy to convince Seifer of that, ya know?" Raijin said.

"QUIET!" Fujin growled and slapped him on the back of the head, raising a cloud of flour from his hair. "MORON!"

"Seifer doesn't have a choice. Just go make yourself comfortable, Zell. You, too, Dr. Shipey. I'll take care of it." Her chair screamed across the linoleum as she backed away from the table, a foreboding sound that affirmed her suspicion the coming confrontation would be as pleasant as lying in a tub of a grat's gastric juices.

She clutched the door handle with an intense sense of purpose. The time had come to beat back the demon that had always haunted her, parading through her life and her job and leaving behind a massive wake of destruction. It was time Seifer learned who was boss. The four at the table were watching her closely; even Dr. Shipey was frozen with anticipation.

"Go!" she ordered and waved a hand to shoo them away.

They scrambled for the living room, even Raijin and Fujin, looking very much like they were fleeing for their lives. And maybe they were.

_That arrogant asshole can't kick us out!_ They had nowhere else to go. No money. No resources. She was at his mercy. And she knew from experience, mercy was something Seifer Almasy didn't posses. But she'd beat it into him until he understood. This was the last straw.

Fueled with adrenalized confidence, she opened the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the deck.

0 0 0

Seifer was unlacing his boots when he heard the door slide open and closed again. Quistis Trepe stood in front of it, her arms crossed and her glasses riding high on her nose. The curtains were still swaying behind her on the other side of the door when she spoke.

"I need to talk to you."

He dropped one boot and went to work on the other. "Change your mind?"

He genuinely hoped that she had since his usual hot tub companion, Fujin, wasn't exactly a gifted conversationalist. Quistis, on the other hand, always had something to say.

"No."

He tried to hide his disappointment. "Really?"

"_Really._"

"It's not like you have to be embarrassed or anything," he said as he pulled his socks off, hoping to convince her. She was already out on the deck with him, forsaking her previous complaint that she was tired and wanted to go to the hotel, and that was half the battle. "I mean, I've seen you, at the base and afterwards. And I know, there isn't anything you need to hide. You're not fat. Or flat chested. Or ugly. In fact, you're not too bad to look at all around..." He sensed that this wasn't going quite as he'd planned.

The water in the hot tub was bubbling now, frothing with white jets. Heaven. The perfect way to drive away the chill that was still clinging to his bones. He was just trying to do her a favor: she needed to unwind. Even now she looked like she was about to explode.

"I know I'm not ugly," she replied. "Maybe I think _you're_ugly. Did you consider that?"

He smirked. "No."

Now she was hedging, probably concerned that giving into his suggestion would violate some obscure SeeD rule about fraternizing with the enemy, or former students, or whatever she considered him to be. But she was playing the game, engaging in the back and forth, and that was a good sign.

"Zell, Dr. Shipey, and I will be staying here," she announced. "You have a house, and we're a team. We're not going to split up."

"Chicken Wuss said you guys didn't want to stay here."

"We don't."

"Then what's the problem?" He stood up and pulled his arms inside his shirt, working it up over his head, and then tossed it onto a nearby lawn chair. He saw no reason this conversation couldn't take place in the warmth and comfort of the hot tub. "I mean, shit...if you don't want to stay here, and I don't want you to stay here, and there's a perfectly good hotel right down the street...I don't see a problem."

"The problem is you!" she hissed. "It doesn't matter whether we want to say here. We're a team! You're supposed to offer!"

"Well..._do_ you want to stay here?"

She hesitated. "I'm not even that happy about sharing a city with you at the moment. But if we split up, Dr. Shipey will be in that much more danger."

"How do you figure?" Seifer asked and unbuttoned the fly of his pants. "Why would he be safer in my living room than at the hotel? I'd think with your opinion of me, you'd want the bastard as far away from me as possible."

"Are you going to be a part of this team or not?" she countered, then crossed her arms in that uptight, don't-mess-with-me way she'd perfected during her one year of teaching. "I really need to know, Seifer, whether you can ever consider anyone but yourself. Because all you've done so far is put the rest of us in danger and make our lives miserable. You might think that we need you, but we don't."

"If you want to get past Squall..." he drawled, stepping closer to her, "You need me. And you know it. I'm the only one who can beat him." He'd hoped his proximity would distract her or unnerve her in some way, but her gaze never wavered from his face. It was crushing, like a sledgehammer. And, in a way he didn't care to examine, it was exciting. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been the focus of attention this direct. It fueled his arrogant ego, making it swell and press into the erratic rhythm of his heart.

"You can't beat Squall."

"He didn't give that scar to himself."

"That was a long time ago. He's a finely honed soldier now, and you're a blue collar average Joe who guts fish for a living."

"Oh, Quistis. Flattery isn't going to get you anywhere with me," he said and grinned. "You have got to be the most unpersuasive person in the world. I'm amazed you never managed to nail Puberty Boy with a poetic arsenal like that."

Her face flushed an attractive shade of pink.

_Damn, she's amusing when she's angry._

He'd always enjoyed pushing her buttons when he'd been her student. Now that she was under real pressure, and the cozy ranks and rules of Garden were off across the ocean, she was even more entertaining to poke and prod.

"I'm not trying to convince you of anything," she said. "I'm demanding, because I'm your leader. The entire team will be staying here. It's an order."

_Order._ That got under his skin. He turned his back on her and walked over to the hot tub to dangle one hand in the water. She just had to go and ruin this.

"I don't take orders from you, Quistis," he replied. "So forget it. Go to your hotel and count me out of this whole mission. Go save the world and fight Squall yourself."

She growled deep in her throat, animal-like, and he heard her steps advancing on him. One. Two. Three. It was all she needed.

"Damn it, Seifer! Quit being such an ass!" She shoved him hard in the back. "We can't go to the hotel!"

"Sure you can. I'll walk you there, just to be rid of you."

When he turned around, she was standing close to him, and she was angry -- angrier than he'd ever seen her in all his years at Garden. Her blue eyes were wide and wild, her fists trembling at her side with passionate rage. This was not the Quistis Trepe who'd taken him on his last field exam. This was not the instructor who had stood in front of his homeroom class and droned on about junctioning until he'd wanted to trepan himself with his pencil just to relieve the boredom. This was the Quistis Trepe he'd seen after the base mission...some kernel of a being that lived inside of her that reveled in blood and violence and power.

This Quistis he could relate to. And he was glad to see her, though she verbally tore into him moments later.

"I'm trying to save some of my dignity here! But you just won't let me have it!" She was nearly standing on his toes. "You want to know why I can't take Zell and Dr. Shipey to a hotel? Fine! Because I don't have the money to, that's why! Are you happy now? Happy that you've made me grovel?"

She sucked in a deep breath. Her cheeks were ruddy and her delicate face was eerily enhanced by the display of emotion. It made Seifer's gut twist. His attention was snared by her anger, like a fish on a hook, and he couldn't look away.

"You're broke?"

"Broke. Yes. _Poor_...poor Quistis Trepe. Failure of an instructor. Failure of a SeeD. Right?"

_Do I even know this girl?_

"I thought you were so rich and made so much money."

"I do make a lot of money. But Garden isn't exactly paying me right now." She jabbed a sharp finger into the middle of his chest. "I used to think that maybe there was something redeeming in you. But there isn't, is there? You're just a selfish, arrogant bully. Well I want you to know that the world is going to end here -- actually end -- and it's all because of you. It's all your fault."

"It's not my fault." His heart was racing. "You're the leader."

All of the criticism and the insults meant nothing. Not when she was standing nose to nose with him, spitting fire. He wanted more, wanted to see her pushed to the edge, so he abraded the wound. She was strangely beautiful like this, unguarded and free.

"Screw you," she breathed, shaking her head. Even now, she couldn't level a hard curse at him.

"Probably all you're good for." He prodded. Take it further. A little bit more. How much animal fury existed under the calm outer shell of Quistis Trepe?

A fountain, he discovered, when she bared her perfect, white teeth and slung her whip around his neck, tightening it with one quick jerk of her hand. The barbs dug into the flesh under his chin. The sinew creaked in his ears. And she looked him right in the eye with fiery murder splashed across her face. The effect was instantaneous and surprising. He couldn't stop himself as the urge gripped his heart and squeezed. Suddenly, some twisted, horrible piece of his soul was reaching out, claiming her heaving breath, her bottom lip, and the sweet taste of her passion.

It was short. Only a split second of lip and tongue before she was all the way across the deck, hands up over her mouth.

"Did you just...?" She dropped her whip, though Seifer could feel it around his neck.

Startled, he turned away and let out a long breath -- the one that he'd stolen from her gasping breast. What had just happened? It had felt like a rubber band snapping: the insults flying, her blood pumping, and all for him. It had been...oh God, it had been exhilarating.

"You can stay," he said. His voice was thick. "The professor and the Wuss, too."

He scrubbed the back of his hand across his mouth, trying to rid himself of the lingering taste of her mouth on his, and fervently reminded himself that the woman standing behind him was Quistis Trepe._Instructor_ Trepe. Since when had she become interesting? Since when had she had any fire?

How the hell had this happened?

She didn't say anything, just picked up her whip and went back through the sliding glass door, leaving Seifer alone on the deck to wonder what had come over him.

His heart was still racing, and it made him feel sick.

0 0 0

When Quistis stumbled into the living room, Zell was already asleep, curled up on the loveseat and snoring loud enough to overpower the jackhammaring of her heart. She was dizzy with it, her mind numb to coherent thought. And no matter how many times she smoothed her hand across her mouth, her lips continued to burn. She collapsed across the couch, buried her face against the cushions, and privately replayed the last five minutes of her life.

She'd tried to kill Seifer.

The second her whip was all the way around his neck, she'd been committed. And part of her had fully intended to follow through.

But then...he kissed her.

It had been fast and strange, not really a kiss at all the way she normally defined them. And yet she felt indelibly marked. How could she ever face Zell again, knowing what had happened? And why could she still _feel_ his warm breath on her face.

She rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling.

Now that she'd gotten her way, she wasn't sure she wanted to stay in the same house as Seifer. If she counted this as a victory, she also felt compelled to scribble a large note in the margin regarding the circumstances. It made her feel used. But it also was fanning the ember of something dark and primal in her gut. She knew she couldn't change her mind now, not without having to explain to everyone why suddenly the hotel didn't seem like such a bad idea. But she also knew that whatever had happened out on the deck between her and Seifer had to be contained. It could never happen again.

They were part of the same team. Team members didn't do things like that to one another, on either count -- the killing or the kissing.

She huffed with frustration, unable to unravel the exact circumstances that had brought her here.

Was it possible that Seifer liked to be treated aggressively?

For a moment, she chewed on that thought. In a bizarre, psychological way, she supposed it made sense. All of his relationships were ones of dominance and submission. In Timber, Edea had wooed him away from his SeeD path not with words of flattery or promises of fame, but with hard criticism. The memory flared in her mind, though it wasn't entirely clear or whole from her vantage point lying dazed on the cold, metal floor of the television station. She hadn't thought about that day in years. Now the memory clicked into place, a perfect fitting puzzle piece.

He actually seemed most comfortable in antagonistic relationships: from the constant fist fights and gunblade duels with Squall to the degrading treatment he'd received at the hand of Ultimecia.

Although, that still didn't explain why he'd kissed her.

Or why he'd ever been able to be "something" to Rinoa Heartilly. Or the odd friendship he had maintained for years with Raijin and Fujin.

Or how she could prevent him from ever kissing her again.

She touched her bottom lip with her index finger and rubbed it across the smooth arc to the side of her mouth and back. No. She definitely didn't want him to do that again. Although, strangling him once more might not be such a bad idea.

She propped her head up on her arms and tried to outline a new psychological profile that left fewer loose strings. But before she constructed anything more solid than her "Seifer the sadist" theory, she heard the sliding glass door open and his bare feet coming across the linoleum. Quickly, she threw one arm across her eyes and feigned sleep, although through the crook of her elbow she saw him enter the living room and start up the stairs.

He was damp, wearing only a pair of wet boxers and carrying his clothes wadded up in his right hand. He didn't even bother to glance at her as he disappeared up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Zell snorted and rolled over.

_Bastard,_Quistis thought. _He could have at least looked at me._

As sleep began tugging at her consciousness, another possibility occurred to her. Somehow, Seifer had used the kiss to insult her, to follow through on his casual declaration that her only worth existed as a body.

Thinking of that made her fists clench, but she couldn't quite resolve that motive against the way he'd looked at her over the top of her whip with his green eyes dilated and dark. Her lips were still tingling a moment later as they parted and she sighed out a final conscious breath, then drifted off to sleep.

0 0 0

The sun was low in the sky, shining directly through the back windows of the house, when the smell of Raijin's cooking woke Quistis up again. She walked into the kitchen to find Dr. Shipey at the table, working on his translations. Zell was sitting in front of a small television, fiddling with the antenna to clear the picture of a local weatherman in a dark suit who was walking across a cartoony map of Dollet, pointing to animations of dark clouds blowing windy gusts across the ocean and a smiling sun beaming down on the city.

"Hey. You're up," he said, and used this as a cue to turn up the volume on the TV.

"A cold front will be moving through Wednesday night bringing more rain..." the weatherman began.

Quistis stifled a yawn and leaned over Raijin's elbow to gaze into the pot he had simmering on the stove.

"How long until dinner?" she asked.

"About half an hour. Still gotta finish baking, ya know?"

She didn't, but she did know that would be enough time to sneak in a shower. She got directions to the bathroom from Raijin, permission to use one of his towels (the Pupurun one, naturally), and left the stomach rumbling scent of food behind. At the top of the stairs, her bare feet sank unto the plush carpet. Second door on the left.

She was just beginning to fantasize about clean hair and fresh skin when the door across from the bathroom opened up and Seifer stepped out, blocking the whole hallway with his mass. His hair was ruffled with sleep and he had on a pair of navy blue Balamb Garden sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt. For a second, she thought she might be able to run before he spotted her, but he yawned and pinned her to the wall with his gaze.

"I was just..." she pointed over his shoulder at the bathroom door. "Dinner won't be ready for another half hour, so I thought..." She groaned inside. Why was this so hard? "I thought I'd take a shower."

"Yeah."

Awkwardly, she looked down at her feet and waited for him to either leave or approach her.

"You have couch marks on your face," he said instead.

Some starch added to her spine, she crossed her arms and said, "You're not going to get a rise out of me this time."

"Trust me, Quistis. I don't want a rise out of you."

A hot blush flamed across her face, making her heels sink back into the carpet. Thankfully, Zell called up the stairs a second later, absolving her from thinking up a neutral response.

"Quisty! You better come see this!"

She flew down the stairs, more eager than she'd intended, and nearly missed the final step. She had to grab the banister to keep from pitching headfirst into the living room and could hear Seifer plodding slowly down after her as she fled into the safety of the warm, bright kitchen.

Zell, Fujin, and Dr. Shipey were crowded around the small television as Raijin held onto the antenna. On the screen, a pair of news anchors was sitting, staring uncomfortably at the camera.

"Okay," the woman said, lifting one hand to brush across her ear. "We're getting word now that the address is about to start. If you hold on, we're going to switch over to our Deling City feed for the duration of the speech."

The screen went fuzzy, then blank. "What's going on?" Quistis asked.

"Krier is giving a presidential address," Zell replied, then tugged her closer to the TV.

The picture resolved into a familiar tableau. President Krier stood, looking just as he had at the dinner in Balamb in his impeccably tailored suit, classy silk tie, and carefully groomed face that was neither welcoming nor overly intimidating. He gripped a dark, wooden podium with both hands, the front of which was adorned with the large, abstract emblem of the Galbadian empire.

Quistis felt Seifer come up behind her as the president began speaking.

"Good evening Galbadia and the world," he began, then paused as if the world were speaking back. "I come to you tonight with unfortunate but pressing news. Yesterday, one of our military bases located in the desert was attacked. A dozen of our brave men and women were killed. I have just returned from the base and learned directly form the soldiers stationed there that the attack was launched from an Estharan air ship and was conducted, at least in part, by members of Balamb Garden's elite SeeD force."

"Oh...shit," Zell swore.

Krier gazed down at his hands, exuding sympathy and regret. "I believe this is an attack we cannot afford to ignore. Not only have our sons and daughters perished, but information vital to Galbadian national security was compromised during the course of this unprovoked assault. Some of you may be aware that I have recently been in negotiations with Esthar's president, Mr. Laguna Loire, in an attempt to ease the tensions between our countries. It now seems obvious that diplomacy has failed. And, as I have also recently been informed that Balamb Garden is currently on a course for Galbadia Garden, I believe that we must take immediate action."

Quistis shook her head. "That doesn't make sense. Why would Garden be heading toward Galbadia?"

"Esthar and Garden have left us only one choice," Krier announced. "We are under attack from a group of people who do not want our country to exist. Our only option is to defend ourselves. And so, as of three this afternoon, the Galbadian Senate under my direction has voted to officially declare war against the country of Esthar and the entity known as Balamb Garden."

"Garden's not a country. He can't declare war on it. Can he?" Zell asked.

"He just did," Seifer replied.

"This war will not be quick or easy," Krier warned. "But we must stand together as Galbadians and fight for our right to survive. We will not fall or flounder; we will not subside or diminish. There is a cycle to human events. Some generations are given everything, while others are faced with seemingly insurmountable tasks. This generation of Galbadians will forge a new world for the next, so that our children will never have to face the threats that we have endured."

Krier let the crescendo of his speech hang and fade.

"Thank you," he finally concluded. "And goodnight."

The screen went black again before changing back to the now even more stymied journalists. The woman cracked an uncertain smile and looked to her male counterpart who seemed at a loss to say anything.

"A...uh...momentous and unexpected announcement from Deling City, Charlene," he said, his eyes flashing back and forth across the camera.

"Indeed, Tom..."

Raijin let go of the antenna and static overwhelmed the anchors' faces.

"I don't get it." Zell turned to Quistis and scratched his head. "He has to know Esthar wasn't behind that attack. And Garden is politically neutral."

Seifer sighed, his breath sending a shiver across the back of Quistis's neck. "Makes sense to me. You're attacked by a bunch of SeeDs in an Esthar airship...what are you supposed to assume?"

Having met Krier, Quistis wasn't convinced the situation was that simple.

"No one has ever declared war on Garden before," she said. "And he didn't declare war on all Gardens, just Balamb. There's no way he can know that we're from Balamb. Plus, war with Esthar isn't in his best interest if he still thinks Dr. Odine is working with him. So, something must have gone sour between them." Dr. Shipey nodded his agreement. "And he knows Rinoa is on Balamb Garden. He must be using our attack as an excuse. Declaring war will let him gather the manpower that he needs to pursue both Dr. Shipey and Rinoa."

"Ain't gonna make things any easier on us," Seifer grunted. "He's got all of Dr. Shipey's notes unless the grenades wiped them out. If he's found the professor's list, then there's gonna be Galbadian soldiers crawling all over those ancient Centran sites like ants on chicken wing."

Hopelessness threatened to creep over Quistis again. She marshaled it and said, "I know. But he still needs Dr. Shipey. So, as long as we can keep the professor safe, we've still got the upper hand."

Shipey frowned as they all turned to look at him. Now Garden, Esthar, and Galbadia were all pursuing him. Keeping him out of danger wouldn't be a simple task.

Seifer elbowed Quistis and Zell out of the way so he could lean against the counter. "What is it that President Krier wants with the weapon anyway? I mean, sure, you think he wants to use it to kill Rinoa and Hyne but...isn't that what we're going to do with it, too? Why not let him have it? Let him do the dirty work."

"Man! Quit saying that! We're not going to kill Rinoa!" Zell said. "Wasn't she your girlfriend or something? How can you suggest something like that?"

"When it comes down to it," Dr. Shipey said softly, "Hyne is Rinoa. You might not have a choice."

The grim prediction made Seifer roll his eyes, and he made no move to respond to Zell's accusation that he was advocating the murder of his ex-girlfriend. Quistis couldn't manage to be so nonchalant, as the thought prodded a nagging uncertainty at the back of her mind. Sometimes, she wasn't sure she wanted to find out where their path was leading, knowing what must lie at the end. What kind of world could be born from the blood and tears of someone as innocent as Rinoa Heartilly?

Raijin went back to tending his meal, and in the ensuing silence Quistis put as much of the table between her and Seifer as possible.

"How's the translation coming?" Zell asked, bravely trodding through the heavy uncertainty gripping the team.

"I should be done with it this time tomorrow. It's the legend of Hyne's return, maybe even the same one that Jorgan E'Lizul heard in Trabia from Vascaroon."

"Anything helpful?

Shipey shrugged. "Nothing about the weapon, exactly."

"You said there were ruins here in Dollet," Quistis said, figuring that keeping active might be their best option.

"Yes. In the catacombs." He nodded. "During ancient times, there was a plague that swept through Dollet. They ran out of burial space in the city, so they dug out tunnels underneath it. They remained in use for a few hundred years, and there's supposed to be the occasional bit of Centran text with the burials and a few murals that contain untranslated writing. Most of it is probably pedestrian, names and will-whishes. But there's quite a lot of it down there. Could be something useful."

"How do we get in?" Quistis wasn't all that pleased to hear they were heading into another tomb, but that was the unfortunate thing about ancient people: all of them were dead.

"There's supposed to be quite a few entrances and exits. But I don't know where they're at. I've never been to Dollet before."

"This city will probably be occupied by the end of the week," Quistis said. "We'll have to find a way in fast."

"Don't worry about it." Seifer walked over to where Quistis was standing and stood in her personal space. "I can find a way in. I've got connections."

"Your connections probably want to kill you."

"Then they should be pleased to escort me into a tomb."

She rolled her eyes.

"Someone has to stay with Dr. Shipey. We can't leave him alone." Guarding the professor would be a perfect job for someone with knight experience. And it would keep him, and most importantly his lips, far away from her.

"Oh! That's my job, ya know!"

"You don't always have to stay behind Raijin..."

"No. It's okay. I'm happy to, ya know?" He grinned and bent over to pull something out of the oven covered in foil, then pulled the covering off and poured his sauce from the stove top over the meal. Quistis was reluctant to give in, but the smell of his cooking weakened her resolve. She couldn't refuse him.

"Okay. Fine. Raijin, you stay with the professor. The rest of us will try to find a way into the catacombs come daybreak."

Still persisting in remaining uncomfortably close, Seifer sat down next to Quistis to eat dinner. Throughout the entire meal, she couldn't make eye contact will Zell, and she jumped whenever Seifer's arm brushed hers.

_Calm down_, she soothed herself. _Don't fall apart._

But she couldn't help it. She didn't know how to act around him now. She couldn't ignore him completely; he was part of the team and impossible to give the cold shoulder to. But she was afraid to respond to his bullying and sarcasm. What if it happened again? She might loose her temper, or he might try and..._oh no_. Her face grew warm and she lifted her large glass of water to drink and hide her blush.

The moment her plate was clean, she bolted out of the kitchen and barricaded herself in the bathroom for the long shower she'd promised herself.

_Stress_. It had to be the stress.

Tomorrow, they'd go together again into a dark and dreary pit of death. It would extinguish all this unexpected heat that was burning in her chest, and she would pull herself back together again.


	14. Necropolis

A/N: My description of the Dollet catacombs is largely indebted to those beneath Paris and Rome, as well as my own experiences in my hometown's infamous underground tunnels. I have a thing for tombs, but I promise this will be the last one for a while.

Chapter 13: Necropolis

Seifer asked everyone he knew (which turned out to be mostly old coworkers), and while all of them could recount tales of their cousin's best friend's brother once getting lost in the catacombs, none of them could provide directions to an entrance. The reason for this became discouragingly clear the moment they approached Captain Til Colburn, by far the most reputable of Seifer's contacts.

"It's been illegal to go down there for more than fifty years," he said.

"Why?" Seifer asked.

"This guy, Eman DeGrassi...he got lost down there and died. He had this plan to use the catacombs to drill up into the bank after hours and rob it. But the batteries in his flashlight died. He was missing for more than ten years before someone finally found his body. Buried him down there, too. And after that, all the entrances on public property were closed up. They welded manholes shut and everything." Captain Colburn crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. "Are you all back here to protect Dollet?"

"Protect Dollet from what?"

"Gabadia. They declared war."

"Yeah. But not on Dollet," Seifer replied.

"They'll be here anyway." He paused and his sharp gaze narrowed. "Why do you need into the catacombs?"

Blankly, Seifer turned and looked at Quistis who jumped in with a hasty, "We're doing some research. They could be a good place to get civilians out of harm's way if Garden has to come in and push the Galbadians out again."

"Damn people think the whole world is theirs," the captain swore. "They forget that we were here first. Deling City is built on top the ruins of an old Dollet fort, you know. And they won't even let us have this one small harbor to ourselves."

Fifteen minutes of bitter complaining later, they managed to escape Captain Colburn's company, but were still no closer to finding a way underground.

"This sucks! It's right there!" Zell stomped on the cobblestone street. "Right under the road! And we can't freaking get to it!"

Quistis sat down on the edge of the fountain and stretched her legs out. The polished granite was cool under her palms and the whisper of running water was soothing to her ears, strained by Zell's shrill voice and Fujin's shouting.

"He just said all the public entrances were closed, right?" Seifer said. "So, what if we find a private one? Someone around here probably still has one just sitting in their back yard."

"How we gonna do that?"

"ASK!" Fujin suggested.

Zell ran his hand through his hair so that it stuck up at even more wild angles than usual. "We can't just walk around advertising that we're about to break the law. We'll end up in prison. Especially once they see we're with you, Seifer."

"I'm not wanted in Dollet."

"Says you."

"Anyway, I can't solve all our problems. This is supposed to be a team, isn't it? About time someone else besides me contributed."

Both Seifer and Zell turned then to gaze directly at Quistis and looked disappointed when she shrugged. What were they expecting? She couldn't just call together a heavy construction team and break through the pavement, or convince the Dollet Dukedom to grant them special privileges because an old legend said someday the world might end. Despite that, Seifer's idea was a good one. They would have to find an entrance on private property. And then they'd have to hope the property owner had warm fuzzy feelings about SeeDs.

Seifer fished a single golden gil from his pocket and flicked it in a long arc over the top of Quistis's head. She heard it splash into the water behind her.

"For luck," he explained, then sat down next to her.

He was still doing that -- getting uncomfortably close -- and she thought it was probably just to unnerve her. After he'd kissed her on the deck, she'd been careful to keep her distance and even more careful to avoid verbal sparring matches. When he threw a punch, she ducked. This seemed to be his new method of annoyance, because she knew he had to notice the way her breath hitched when his arm pressed into her side, or his thigh rested next to hers, or his scent tickled her nose. She scooted away from him, turning her face so that the breeze blew against it, and found herself looking across Dollet's central square at the public library which was gleaming white in the morning sun.

"Hey..." An idea sprang to life in her head. "Why don't we check the library? They might have maps, news articles...all kinds of information on the catacombs and where the various entrances are located."

"Sounds like a great plan, Quisty!" Zell said. He had a soft spot for libraries, or maybe just librarians.

"AGREED."

Quistis turned to Seifer and smiled, taking pride in her small victory. "Looks like you're out-voted."

"I don't remember voting."

"It's hardly a mystery what you were going to say."

He grumbled something inaudible before following them into the library.

At such an early hour, the library was nearly deserted except for a few employees shelving books and working at desks. The air smelled sweet with warm cream and nutmeg from the small coffee stand near the entrance -- a fountain of life for those few industrious researchers in the community and a commercial lure for those who preferred magazines to classic literature. Quistis took a deep breath and felt immediately at home. This was where she excelled. Hours of study and rampant perfectionism had ravaged her social life as a cadet until her fingers were shadowy with ink from time spent consuming binders of self-study exams; and her developing body had been overtaxed from long weapons training sessions where she was taught movements and maneuvers, theoretical battle technique. It was all conceptual, all in her head. And it had been blissfully fulfilling.

"I'll check for maps," Zell offered. He walked up to the nearest librarian, blushed charmingly, and asked for help.

Seifer looked like he felt nauseous. "I'm going to pretend I never saw that." He turned to Quistis. "So, what do we do?"

"We...research."

Seifer and Fujin glanced at one another, then at the bookshelves, apparently at a loss for where to begin. Their expressions woke the semi-dormant instructor in Quistis, who immediately began formulating a lecture on how to do everything from browse old fashioned card catalogs to cross reference terms in a database. Knowing the speech would only irritate Seifer, she managed to swallow the volumes of knowledge begging to be shared and motioned for them to follow her.

She sat Fujin down in a local history room filled with drawers of old newspapers and legal documents, then left Seifer under her watchful eye, hoping the two of them might be able to accomplish something together.

Alone, Quistis waded into the stacks. After so many days of tight co-habitation, the books were welcomingly silent and still. She trailed down the rows, running her fingers along their spines, and breathed. For the first time since Trabia, she felt like she had the room to really fill her lungs again.

Centered. Peaceful. Clear.

At length, she ended up seated in a large office chair at the back of the library, browsing through a neglected catalog of microfiche cards. The library only kept hard copies of newspapers for ten years, a librarian told her, and anything older than that was archived on film to save space. So she relaxed in her chair, soaking up the silence, and fed card after card into the large microfiche reader. She scanned past news articles at a blistering pace on the wide, flat screen. The work was mindless but good relaxation. It was almost mediation. Text and grainy photos whistled past her eyes. She put a new card in.

Half an hour passed, maybe more, before a headline arrested her attention:_Local Woman & Child Missing at Sea._

It wasn't related to the catacombs. It was extraneous. But she couldn't scroll past. Not knowing that the woman's photograph was tucked away at the bottom of her duffel bag, carefully folded between her delicates. She scooted closer to the reader and shifted the card to the left where the newspaper had published a photograph of a young, windblown pub owner, captioned, "Selune, husband of the missing woman."

_Selune._

Quistis devoured the details. She read about the storm that capsized the woman's boat and about those that had survived. She felt more keenly knowing how the story would end the anguish of the pub owner's fear and doubt. And for the first time, she put names with the faces she'd been carrying in her pocket. She moved to the next card and another article. Then to another, ingesting photo after photo of thin, blonde Helene Selune.

In one particularly high pitched article where hopelessness and desperation dripped from every quote the author had managed to wring from the poor pub owner, they published a photograph of the child. She was a pudgy little girl with a pelt of thick, blonde hair and large clear eyes. Helene Selune was holding her, clutching the baby to her chest and smiling down so that all her teeth were showing.

Quistis had never seen it before, but she recognized it immediately -- _love_, pure and true.

Her heart twisted when she realized she'd missed that as a child. And it pulled tighter when she realized she'd probably never feel the pleasure of cradling a newborn in her arms as an adult. Career SeeDs weren't encouraged to have children. And what sort of mother would bring a baby into a world rotting with war?

Still, she was comforted to think, to imagine, that the content child in the photograph could have been her. The time frame was right, and they looked enough alike. If she thought about it long enough, and stared hard enough at the image burning across her screen, she could almost believe the baby hadn't drowned in the bay. Perhaps she'd been rescued and taken to an orphanage where she'd grown to be lonely and hard. Even the tragic loss of one parent was better than none at all. Squall had somehow managed to find his father after years apart. Her life didn't have to be any different, if she could just believe this baby who'd died was still a wandering spirit without a home, casting about as Quistis Trepe.

Seifer sat down across the desk and startled her, making her push the card through the reader with a sudden shove.

"We aren't getting anywhere," he complained. "How about you? Find anything?"

"Um...no. Not much progress here either."

She blushed, but Seifer didn't notice. He was too wrapped up in his own misery. "This is about the most boring idea you've ever had. And that's saying something. I took your class, so I know. Zell's probably off getting it on in a stack of old magazines with that librarian, and I'm sitting here flipping through five year old classified ads. Something is seriously wrong with that."

Quistis shrugged.

"Anyway, I'm goin' to get something at that coffee stand thing near the front door," Seifer announced and made a face. "I don't even like coffee. And now they've got all those stupid cup sizes, and all these weird specialty drinks. You know? But I figure they might have food or something. Want anything?"

His offer surprised her, and she immediately became suspicious of his motives.

"No. Thanks anyway."

"Yeah," he said and got up from his chair with a groan. "Don't kill yourself or anything while I'm gone."

Feeling as if she'd narrowly escaped getting caught breaking the rules, Quistis settled back into searching the microfiche cards for any hint of the catacombs. She dug back past the date of Helene Selune's death and saw fragments of the couple in more cheerful times. Time peeled away, shedding their sorrows and their tragedy until they emerged a happy, enterprising young family all filled with hope and pluck, oblivious to the cruel fate the universe was preparing to deal them.

Quistis had scanned through four cards with no mention of the Selunes or the catacombs when her interests unexpectedly collided.

"Local pub expands cellar, breaks into underground crypt," she read quietly to herself.

Destiny brushed by.

And then, so did Seifer. "I know you said you didn't want anything. But it's probably just because you're fucking poor. So I bought you this...red stuff. It's got cream or foam or whatever the hell that is, so I thought you'd like it. Don't spill it," he admonished as he reached her desk and held the plastic cup out toward her. "You're not supposed to have it up here around all the books and shit."

She ignored the drink in his outstretched hand and shoved her microfiche cards back into their drawer.

"Have you seen Zell?" she asked instead.

"Not lately."

"Go find him."

"_You_ go find him. I've done my good deed for the day." He forced the cool cup into her hands and wrapped her fingers around it with his own. "Did you find something?"

"Maybe." She took a sip of her drink. Raspberry cream. "There used to be an entrance in the pub's cellar. It might not be accessible anymore, but it's worth a shot."

They fetched Fujin and managed to locate Zell standing at one of the library's photocopiers, still being assisted by the same librarian. She was loading sheets of eleven by seventeen paper into the copier's bottom drawer as Zell loudly recounted battling Timat in Ultimecia's castle.

"It's got this flare attack, right?" he said. "So it just floats there and gets this fireball brewing in its belly. And we only had five minutes to beat her before she incinerated us!"

Fujin was the first to reach them.

"LEAVING!"

"Okay. I just gotta--"

"NOW!"

"That's cool. It's just that I've got this--"

"Come on, Chicken Wuss. We don't got all day here," Seifer said. "Say goodbye to your girlfriend so we can go."

Zell grew crimson. He jabbed the copy button on the machine hard once the librarian closed the paper drawer and motioned over his shoulder. "_He_was on_her_ side."

The librarian gave Seifer, and then the drink in his hand, a scathing look and said, "Oh. I see." Her lips flattened into a straight, tight line. "If you'll just wait outside, Sir, then Mr. Dincht will be with you as soon as he is finished here."

Through some small miracle, Seifer held his temper. They waited for Zell out by the fountain and finished their drinks. Quistis's tasted extra sweet as the only nice thing Seifer had ever done for her. She consented to sit next to him with that in mind. Someone who'd been loved as a child, she thought, wouldn't have found such a simple thing so extraordinary. But she licked the cream off the top of her cup with a delicate, savoring tongue. It felt warm and familiar against her lips.

0 0 0

Headmaster Cid walked into Squall's office with his hands behind his back. This was his usual position of supplication, a sort of non-verbal assertion that he came unarmed and undefended. In a facility filled with armed and dangerous adolescents, he'd had plenty of time to perfect this illusion of innocence, but Squall recognized it from the outset as the most dangerous stance the Headmaster could take against him. He prepared himself for the worst.

"Good morning, Squall. How are you today?"

"Fine, Sir."

Cid shuffled up to the chairs on the other side of Squall's desk but didn't sit down.

"And how has Rinoa been? I haven't seen her in a while, which is unusual for her."

"She's fine, too."

Squall leaned back in his chair to get further away from the headmaster and felt the feathery ruff of his coat tickle his arms. He felt vulnerable sitting in just his t-shirt and considered pulling the jacket on, but he didn't want to move and spook the headmaster onto topic.

Cid shifted forward. "I was just up on the bridge talking with Xu and Nida."

"Is everything alright, Sir?"

"Oh, yes. Nothing you need to worry about, Squall. Weather is clear and Garden is running smoothly," he said reassuringly, so much so that Squall actually felt a measure of comfort from the pitch of Cid's voice. "It's just that I was looking out the windows at the Galbadian desert, and it made me curious..."

Cid paused and acted like the question had grown organically from his unrenowned sense of wonder.

"Where are we heading? I don't think Garden has been this way in a long time."

"I already gave Nida our heading," Squall replied. "He should have told you. Centra."

"Do we have a mission there?"

"Yes."

"Oh...we do?" Now Cid seemed genuinely curious. "What does it involve? It's nothing about Edea, is it?"

"No. Edea is fine, as far as I know." Squall rolled back his chair a little further toward the window. "It's just a quick errand. Rinoa and I will be taking care of it."

"Then is the whole Garden really necessary?" Cid's arms tightened behind his back. "I think you can understand, our presence in Galbadian water is making everyone a little uneasy following that attack by--" Cid couldn't say it. He knew the truth.

"I don't think Galbadia will bother us any further."

Cid sighed. "You haven't heard then."

"Heard what?"

"The president of Galbadia, Jack Krier, went on Galbadian television and declared war against Esthar and Balamb Garden." Squall was caught off guard by Cid's news and hardly heard what he said next. "He cited some attack on a Galbadian army base that was led by Balamb Garden SeeDs using an Esthar air ship. Of course, we had nothing to do with it. But considering the circumstances...it's possible that Quistis and Zell may have."

"You think they're framing us?"

Cid shrugged. "I think we should go back to Balamb. Whatever this errand is, surely it can wait. If we keep sailing around Galbadia like this, we're going to attract some very unwelcome attention."

Squall shook his head. "No. We can't go back to Balamb. We're halfway around Galbadia already."

"It will look less like we're advancing if we're heading toward home."

"_No_."

Cid's patience stretched but did not snap. "Then tell me, what is in Centra that is so important? If anything has happened to Edea and you're afraid to tell me..."

"It's not Edea."

"Then what is it?"

Squall found he literally couldn't say. No words came to him to describe the urgent desire he felt to get Rinoa onto Centran soil, to see her resting peacefully in the flower field where he could protect her. He had nothing sensical to say to the headmaster. So he looked up at the older man and slowly shook his head. It was all he could do.

"I know whatever it is must seem very important to you, Squall," Cid said. "But we need to turn Garden around. The Galbadians have declared war on us. They will attack us again. We need to go back to Balamb and go into negotiations to explain to them that they were not attacked by Garden sanctioned SeeDs."

"I will not order Garden to turn around," Squall said firmly and got up from his chair. The headmaster didn't understand how imperative this mission was.

"I'm not asking you to anymore, Squall," Cid replied.

"You're ordering me?"

"No. I'm the headmaster. I will order the change in course. I can't risk everyone in Garden."

Cid turned around, his hands no longer behind his back but strong and capable at his sides, and Squall felt the firm grip of panic take hold of his heart. He'd talked to Xu, and Squall already knew that she was planning to betray Garden. Quistis and Zell had boarded specifically to capture or kill Rinoa and now they all had the headmaster convinced to sway him from the course to safety. Was an ambush waiting behind them, back near Dollet? Quistis and Zell had to know that Krier's declaration of war would force them to change course to avoid Galbadian territory.

Suddenly, he was sure.

"Sir!" He readied a spell in his head.

Cid turned around.

"I can't let you betray us, too, Sir."

0 0 0

The pub was empty except for the bartender and a young girl who was dusting tables. The bartender immediately recognized both Quistis and Seifer as soon as they walked in.

"Getting a head start today?" he asked.

"Actually, we're here to talk to the owner. Is he here?" Quistis replied.

"This is a pub. Not an office."

Seifer walked right up to the bar and leaned against it. "We're aware of that. So is he here, or not?"

"You can tell him it's Quistis Trepe, if that will make you feel better about it," Quistis added. "He might remember me."

The bartender arched an eyebrow and laughed. "Yeah. I bet he might. Hold on."

As the bartender climbed the stairs at the back of the pub, Seifer rounded on Quistis. "What's that mean? Why would he remember you?"

She settled on a half-truth. "I beat him at cards."

Seifer crossed his arms and gave her a hard, distrusting glare, though her relationship with the pub owner was hardly any of his business. Two minutes later, the man in question appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Miss Trepe! Glad to see you back in Dollet!" He dropped down them fast enough to betray his delight, but lost the spring in his step when he noticed her entourage. Seifer and Fujin in particular seemed to give him pause. "Are these your...?"

"Seifer, Fujin, and Zell," she said by way of introduction. "My team mates. We'd like to talk to you for a few minutes."

"Right." He smiled amicably. "Well...come on up to my office."

Once they were all settled into chairs across his desk, Quistis decided to come right out with what they wanted. All the magazine and newspaper clippings laying scattered on the floor and tacked to corkboard walls made her feel guilty and suspicious that someone might figure out why she'd been looking at articles concerning the pub owner in the first place. She didn't want to have to explain her interest in the man and his wife.

"We need to get into the catacombs," she said.

"That's illegal."

"I know."

Fujin leaned forward in her chair and nudged a newspaper to the side with her foot. Quistis saw her eye narrow and dart across the page.

"What makes you think I can help you?" the pub owner asked.

"Your cellar," Quistis replied slowly, preoccupied with Fujin's shifting attention. "We heard that when you were expanding it, you broke into one of the crypts."

"It was sealed back up. I wouldn't just leave a grave hanging open into my bar."

Out of the corner of her eye, Quistis saw Fujin turn and look at her, then back down at the stack of papers. She prayed that the top article wasn't the one of Helene with the baby. Fancifully, her mind added, _the picture of you_.

"Did they seal it up with stone?" she managed to ask.

He leaned back in his chair until it creaked and crossed his arms. His eyes moved quickly across the four of them and settled back on Quistis where he saw someone familiar -- someone he loved.

"Is it important?"

"Vitally."

"And you're prepared? People used to get lost down there all the time."

"We've been in worse places."

At this, his eyes flicked to Seifer and back, but he nodded and stood up.

"We had to scale back our plans for the cellar once the workers broke into the crypt below the pub," he explained and fetched a large key out of his desk drawer. "We had to reverse direction and build the other way. The hole wasn't very big, so they boarded it up. You should be able to break through the wood, but it's a good drop to the floor once you're through." He paused on his way out the door and turned around again. "Do you have food? Water? Extra batteries for your flashlights?"

"We're ready," Zell said. "We're working with a professor. He told us everything we'd need."

"Yeah, well...if I'm going to let you into my cellar, you're going to take along some extra provisions. Can't be too safe."

He shouted orders to the bartender and the cleaning girl as he charged down the stairs and scattered them like mice into the kitchen before leading them down to the cellar door which was illuminated by a single, bare light bulb with a shoestring tied to the switch. The room was cool and packed with crates of alcohol stacked along the far wall. Closer to the door were shelves lined with a motley assortment of jars and cans. They had to step around cardboard boxes of dry food (mostly crackers, nuts, and pretzels) to get into the room, and then waited for the pub owner to get his bearings.

"I think...let's see..." He spun around once. "We were going to built it this way, toward the back of the pub, and that's where we hit the crypt."

Seifer and Zell helped him move boxes aside to reveal an old, wooden wall.

"The hole was small, like I said. We stopped as soon as we broke through. And I think it was about..." He paced the length of the wall. "God, it's been so long. I think it was right about...here maybe?"

Fujin and Quistis waited in the hallway while Seifer and Zell pulled boards out of the wall under the pub owner's instruction. The screeching of nails being wrested from their long rest in the wooden studs could easily have been the cry of ghosts beneath their feet, roaming the ancient labyrinth, hungry for the life raging above. Only ten minutes passed before Zell called Quistis in to look at the gaping, ragged hole in the building's foundation they had uncovered. The cool scent of rock and water drifted up through it like a soft gasp from the earth.

Newly armed with extra rations from the pub's stores, they crowded around the opening.

"You're the leader," Seifer finally said and put his hand at the small of Quistis's back. "You go first."

"Alright."

She went through feet first, holding onto Zell's hands as he lowered her down until her feet hit the floor. Her first, immediate impression was of suffocating darkness. It was thick and oppressive, impenetrable to the weak light drifting in through the star-like opening above her. She fumbled for her flashlight, shivering either from an unexpected rush of anxiety fueled by the aggressive blackness, or from the damp underground chill that was already sucking warmth from her core. It all felt unpleasantly like the dead grasping feebly at her soul.

Her finger slid across the switch on her flashlight just as Fujin was lowered down beside her.

The light revealed a narrow tunnel that stretched both forward and behind them. Across the wall, the construction workers had written their names in crayon and in chalk.

"Hands off, Chicken Wuss!" Seifer yelled above them before he tumbled awkwardly through the hole. Zell came through more nimbly afterwards and stuck his landing like a cat.

"So," Zell drawled slowly and looked about. "This is it."

Dollet's city of the dead -- empty, quiet, and cold. Quistis had somehow expected it to be something more. With no direction seemingly better than any other, she let fate take hold of her hand once more and started off in the direction she had landed. Blind luck hadn't led her astray so far, she was willing to trust it a little longer.

The tunnel tilted down but otherwise remained the same.

"Not really what I'd imagined..." Seifer muttered.

"BORING," Fujin agreed.

As they traveled down, the tunnel floor began to flood with milky water. First it lingered in pools and then it rose to create a uniform channel that grew deeper until they could barely straddle it. After arbitrarily turning right at the first intersection, the ceiling dropped and moving forward became a balancing act of watching the uneven floor as well as the patchy, bare rock overhead. Seifer had the most trouble with this and cracked his skull on a rough outcropping of stone. A small, vivid trickle of blood dribbled down his cheek from his temple, but he rubbed it away with his hand and motioned for Quistis to continue. The bloody smudge he left on the wall in passing felt like a sacrifice, and moments later they emerged from their tunnel into a wide gallery of burial spaces.

Notches were carved five on top of one another into the walls. Most were empty crevices, the edges worn away by the years. But a few still contained bones. A broken set of teeth peeked out of the corner of one; the knotty end of a femur protruded from another. Others were still sealed shut with stone slabs glued into place with mortar that still looked damp, rough with ancient tool marks.

"Wow," Zell whispered. "Look at how many bodies they fit in here. Imagine how this place must have smelled back then."

Presently, only a faint musty scent lingered in the air. The dead here had long since turned to rock and dust.

"I don't see any writing," Seifer said. He walked over to one of the burial notches and pushed the bones aside. "Nothing buried with them either."

"Well, yeah," Zell replied. "These people were poor. Look at 'em. They're buried on top of each other in a bunch of cubbies. They probably didn't have anything to be buried with. They probably couldn't even read."

"I thought the professor said there were paintings down here."

"He also said this was used to bury plague victims. There isn't a lot of time to build fancy tombs when people are kickin' the bucket left and right."

Seifer sighed and rubbed the tender spot on the side of his head. "No use looking for old books among a bunch of poor, illiterate skeletons, I guess."

He found the exit to the gallery and turned into a new passageway without waiting to see who would follow, though Fujin was hot on his heels. The darkness consumed the ambient light from his flashlight immediately. The catacombs were eating their traces as they walked, trespassers in a world not designed for light and movement. Quistis and Zell had to run to catch up lest the group become permanently separated.

The pace was slower with Seifer in the lead. He took them through more tall rooms packed with bones and around deep impressions in the floor that plunged straight into the pit of the earth. Quistis stopped to shine her flashlight down one but couldn't see the bottom. Dr. Shipey probably could have explained them away as ventilation shafts, but to her they looked ominously like traps for the unwary interloper.

"How many fucking people can one plague kill?" Seifer demanded as they walked into another gallery of niches. "There aren't even this many people in Dollet."

"Maybe not now, but Dollet used to be an entire kingdom," Zell reminded him.

"Doesn't change the fact that this isn't what we're looking for."

Quistis checked each of the slots just to be sure that nothing had been tucked away with the bodies. One grave close to the floor looked particularly promising. She crouched to get a better look and her flashlight glinted off the curve of a blade still clutched in the skeleton's hand. The body was wrapped in a whispery fine patch of red linen that was unraveling around the edges. She was reaching for the sword and was about to call Zell over to take a look at what she'd found when the bones shuddered of their own accord, rattling against one another, and the finger bones tightened around the hilt of the sword. Between the joints, Quistis spotted snotty green sinews pulling tight, bringing the skeleton back together.

As she ducked and rolled away from the undead monster, she felt its sword swing past her ear.

"Watch out!" Zell yelled from somewhere, half a second too late.

The forbidden fell from the niche in a waterfall of bones, then coalesced on the floor again until it was standing upright, ancient red cape flying from its shoulders.

Quistis scrambled to her feet and put as much distance between herself and the monster as possible. The undead were easy to defeat but extremely dangerous to encounter unaware -- forbiddens could kill with a single blow.

"Fireaga!" Seifer's spell set fire to the monsters otherworldly cape and set its stringy muscles bubbling. It hissed and shook.

"Use phoenix down," Zell yelled as Quistis was joining their line.

"I don't have any, Chicken Wuss!"

"What? Who doesn't carry phoenix down?"

Fujin reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of fiery feathers. The forbidden jolted when he saw them and advanced quickly on her, sword drawn, bones rattling. Seifer parried his death blow and Fujin blew the magical feathers into the skeleton's blank face. They melted and fused to the skull, creating a hot, white liquid that suffused the creature with vibrant, unbearable life. In a second, its tendons rotted to dust, and the bones collapsed harmlessly on the floor, sword clattering from its broken hand, and the red cape burned away with the lingering scent of blood.

"You okay?" Zell asked, taking hold of Quistis's arm.

"Fine. He missed me."

"Lucky thing, too," Seifer said and kicked the skull across the room. "You were right in its face when this thing woke up. It's amazing he didn't manage to run you right through."

Quistis massaged her heart. "I think we'll have to be more careful around the bodies from now on."

"Agreed," everyone said in unison.

They explored as far as they could through the blank tunnels without seeing any other undead monsters before they came to a dead end where the rough silhouette of a man on a horse was dashed across the wall in broad strokes of white paint, one arm outstretched like the point on a compass. The painting was rushed and sloppy, the work of an artist operating under the worst conditions. Or maybe it was a splash of graffiti. Without having something to compare it to, Quistis couldn't tell.

On the right wall, someone had drilled out a passage way big enough for a man to squeeze through. Zell took one look at it and dove in head first. His feet kicked for five long minutes as he wriggled through on his belly to the other side.

"It's safe!" he called back once he was finally through.

Fujin climbed in next, leaving Seifer and Quistis alone for a few dark, lonely minutes as she scraped along by her fingernails to the other side.

Seifer leaned back against the white figure, irreverent to the fact that he was in a sacred place, and pointed his flashlight right in Quistis's face.

"So, what's the deal with the pub owner?" he asked. "He was awful eager to help you out."

She held up a hand to shade her eyes. "I've met him before. I beat him at Triple Triad."

"So you said. Is everyone you beat at cards such a fan?" He made a small T-shape across his chest with his index finger. "I always fucking hated the Trepies."

"He's not a Trepie."

_He's my..._

Quistis forced her thoughts off the dangerous track they were heading down. Just because his once-upon-a-time wife looked like her, and just because they'd mysteriously lost a daughter, didn't mean the little girl was her. That didn't make him her _father_.

"Yeah, and Zell isn't a..." He drifted off, apparently unable to think of anything to say. Zell was fertile ground for insults. She was surprised that he was finally beginning to exhaust his repartee.

"Sometimes people just do nice things for one another, Seifer," she said.

"If they want something they do."

"So you want something from me in exchange for the drink you bought me at the library?"

He smiled. "Of course I do."

She couldn't help playing the game for just a second. "Want me to try and kill you again?" she asked.

He blushed and ducked to look through the hole and check on Fujin's progress. She was surprised just how uneasy the question made him. Maybe, she realized, he didn't want to be alone with her either.

Once Fujin called back that she was through, they both scrambled to be the first one in. His large, heavy body jostled against hers and his hand clamped around her wrist, his fingers pressing into the tender throbbing of her pulse. He was all heat and fire. Touching him was so different from the frigid shadow surrounding them and the unforgiving limestone against her shoulder. He was a raging flame of life. And he was easily pushing her aside to leave her behind in the lonely, deadly darkness.

"Wait!" She panicked and grabbed him by his belt loops to haul him back.

He came back, not entirely of his own will. "Hey! Knock it off!"

"I want to go first."

"Why?"

"Because..."

_Because I don't want to be left behind. Because I don't want to be alone. Because I'm scared._

"Because I'm the leader."

Blood was still dribbling slowly from the cut near his temple, giving him a feral look. One black drop blazed a path down his cheek and dripped into the water between them, sending a crimson spiral through the mud. She felt bizarrely compelled to run a finger along his jaw and collect the life gathering there, but he dashed it away again, using the sleeve of his sweater. With his other hand, he gave in, motioning for her to go ahead of him. No argument. No questions. He stepped away from the tunnel and, for a moment, let her desires rule. For someone like Seifer Almasy, it looked suspiciously like a moment of unguarded affection.

"Thanks..."

"Just go, or I'll change my mind."

The connecting tunnel was rough and cramped. Quistis was immediately aware of several dozen feet of solid rock above her head. It pressed against her back and her bottom as she struggled through, inch by agonizing inch. Zell grabbed her hands when they came out the other side and pulled her the rest of the way. She flopped out onto the ground like a wet calf.

The new section of catacombs she found herself in was different from the one they had come from with its labyrinthine, barren passageways. Here the walls were raw patches of stone worn waxy by erosion. A pair of huge, metal pillars split the room, each five feet thick. They looked industrial rather than ceremonial, perhaps anchoring a building high above to the bedrock below. Dirt was piled in high clumps without any regard for aesthetics or basic navigation.

Behind her, Seifer was struggling to squeeze his wide shoulders through.

At length, his fingers and then his blonde hair peeked out. He grunted and groaned and came through in short bursts as if the ground were squeezing him out in convulsions, rather like giving birth or (she unkindly thought) passing excrement.

With Seifer safely through, they continued down the natural cave until it led back into the catacombs via a two foot high gap that they had to crawl through. They emerged on the other side from the back wall of an empty grave slot. Although the bones had disintegrated centuries ago, a sand-like dust coated the rock and pressed into Quistis's palms as she crawled. She quickly forgot about the human ash covering her when she swept her flashlight through the room.

The ceiling was vaulted and moved up in steps like a pyramid. On each of the room's three walls was a burial slot with a half circle carved above it that was filled with painted reliefs. Crenellated pillars that once must have looked very elegant stood in each corner. They were topped with pulsing waves of rock that spread across the walls until they faded against the shores of the burial places. In spots where the mortar had begun to wear away, trinkets that had been included in the mix were working their way free. One end of a delicate, golden necklace was hanging above one of the graves, untouched since it had been laid to rest with its master centuries ago.

Seifer walked up to the bit of jewelry and pulled on it, unzipping the mortar for four inches before the necklace broke free.

"Seifer!"

"What?"

She couldn't explain exactly why his lack of respect for the dead bothered her. In her line of work, death was a fact of life. Monsters were utterly disposable -- Garden had to refill the training center with them at least once every month. SeeDs died on missions all the time and cadets occasionally died in training or during field exams. Death happened. And no one thought much about it. Perhaps that was the reason why Seifer's blithe irreverence shocked her now, in a place where the dead had been shown such exquisite care and affection. Violating their carefully crafted afterlife seemed a grievous insult.

"This must be the five star catacomb," Seifer said. "You get the king size burial cubby and a brand new necklace under your pillow. That's pretty good turndown service. There must be some writing around here somewhere. These people could read. Right, Chicken Wuss?"

"Probably."

Paintings took up most of the real estate on the wall. They were scenes from everyday life: men sitting in conversation, working in fields, and pouring libations from huge casks of wine. The only writing was a few names scratched into the mortar.

A set of stone steps took them deeper. They spiraled down into the earth, and the air became cooler. Water again rose to cover the floor of the catacomb until they were wading through it ankle deep. But the lower they got, the more elaborate the tomb became until finally, they emerged into a huge gallery with one lone burial spot. It was still partially sealed, though a large chunk near the skeleton's feet had fallen off into the water. Worn paintings covered the tomb from top to bottom in a thick fresco that was broken up only by the line of the water and by passages of ancient Centran text spelled out in black calligraphy.

Zell whistled. "Jackpot! This must be what the professor was talking about."

Fujin took pictures. Zell managed to sneak into a few of them, grinning like a fool with his thumb stuck in the air, which earned him an angry shout and a slap that just barely missed his head.

Meanwhile, Seifer stuck his flashlight in the burial space to get a look at the body.

"Hey. This guy's got something with him," he called out. "Not a sword, thankfully. Looks like a tablet or something, up by his head."

He moved to pull away more of the seal, and Quistis found herself reaching out to grab hold of his wrist. Her fingertips grazed the back of his hand as he jerked out of reach.

"What's your problem?" he demanded. "This isn't a museum, Quistis. The whole look but don't touch thing is getting ridiculous."

She stared at him. Fujin and Zell did, too.

"It's not the_ touching _that bothers me," she replied quietly. "It's the _breaking_."

He scoffed at her. "Who'll give a shit if the world comes to an end? No one will care what happens right now, as long as things come out okay in the end. Results. Not process."

_All's well that ends well._

He broke away the seal and it crumbled to dust in his hands, revealing the dead man resting in the cool, damp darkness. A heavy tablet was tucked beneath his chin and had settled between his rib bones where his heart might once have been. Fujin photographed it and Seifer swept aside the dust -- rock dust, bone dust, a millennia's worth of human decay.

"Great. We found it. Now let's get the hell out of here," Seifer said as he wiped his hands off on his pants.

The only direction to travel from the elaborate tomb was up. So they climbed stairs and attempted to retrace their steps. But Quistis realized they must have missed the burial slot they'd climbed out in when they got to another set of tunnels. These weren't flooded, but they were rife with graffiti and old liter: glass soda bottles, cigarette buts, and tinfoil wrappers. Somehow, these artifacts of the recent past seemed more ominous than all the bones in the lower crypts. With the rare exception of a forbidden coming awake, the dead tended to be much more harmless than their living counterparts.

"I hope we got something good for Dr. Shipey," Zell was saying. "I've been working with him a little bit, and he's been teaching me a little Ancient Centran. I can't read it or anything. He's just teaching me the letters. But still, it's awesome just to be able to recognize it. Being down there and seeing that tablet...knowing what it is. Man! I see why he does this for a living."

"He doesn't explore tombs for a living, dip-shit," Seifer replied. "He works at a university. He reads books and writes papers. He doesn't go out and have adventures, or whatever it is that you're thinking. It's men of action, men like me, who actually go out and do things."

"It is so not an insult to say that Dr. Shipey isn't a man like you. It's a compliment."

Fujin glared at Zell on Seifer's behalf, and they started aimlessly up another set of stairs, working on the idea that going up would eventually lead them out. At the top of the stairs, where the air was slightly warmer, they stopped to eat.

In the silence of their frantic chewing, an odd sound tickled at the edge of Quistis's senses. It fluttered in and out of existence like the ghost of a half-forgotten memory. Bahamut shifted in her head and she felt him pushing against the inside of her ears, extending her senses out further until they sharpened, clear as a razor blade slicing through the fog of ambient noise. And finally, she could single the phantom out -- two voices. They were moving somewhere, beyond the walls or around a bend, wandering like spirits.

Bahamut collapsed back into her subconscious, and she lost the sound amongst the aural thicket of Zell's chewing.

"I feel like a freaking bat in here," he said, then squinted his eyes in faux blindness. "It's cool and all, but I hope this is the last tomb for a while. All the dead people...it sorta starts to get to you."

When they got moving again, Quistis took the lead. Though she strained for any errant drop of water or tumbling of pebbles, the catacombs were all silence and darkness again. Nothing lurked in the unknown except Bahamut watching her from the ether of thought and possibility.

"So, what do you think President Krier is going to do?" Zell asked no one in particular. "Think he'll try to attack Garden again?"

"He can't do much without the weapon," Quistis replied, and hoped that would be the end of it. The schizophrenic scribbles on the walls and Seifer's searing presence hard at her back were making her uneasy. She wanted silence and space. But Zell was oblivious to the changing atmosphere and pressed on.

"Esthar would crush Galbadia in all out war. Krier's gotta know that, right? So he can't attack them directly, and I don't think Laguna will do anything unprovoked, so...what do you think? He's not going to do anything?"

"Zell..."

"Cuz if they come here to Dollet after us, someone would have to respond to that. So I was just thinking that maybe--"

"QUIET!" Fujin yelled, shattering the silence she meant to create.

Quistis fell back against the wall, images of an army of undead soldiers rising up from the crypts flooding her mind. Where there was one forbidden, there were bound to be more. They spread like a disease, drawn to darkness and decay. All four of them stood still as the sound of Fujin's voice echoed down the tunnels and dissipated. Flashlights pointed down at the floor, they crowded together in silence.

Just when Quistis was preparing to let loose the breath she was holding, the phantom voices returned on the horizon of her senses. She turned to Seifer to see if he could hear them as well. He nodded slowly when he noticed her looking up at him. She pressed her finger to her lips and then turned down the brightness on her flashlight. Zell tightened his gloves on his fists and Fujin's pinwheel was clutched tight in her free hand.

Up another set of narrow stairs, the litter multiplied ten fold. Empty candy wrappers were strewn in amongst the small heaps of broken bones that had been cleared from the burial notches to make room for the locked, metal safe boxes that were sitting in them now. Hardly a nest of undead monsters, this was something else. Quistis unrolled Save the Queen from her belt and crept up to the next corner.

The voices were clearer here. More human.

"I told you how much to bring."

"I know. I told you I'd have it by next week, but I really need some now." The second was a woman's voice, pleading. "Can't you just cut me a break, huh? I've always been good for it."

The man she was talking to held his position. "This ain't a charity, sweetheart."

Seifer came up behind Quistis and whispered in her ear, "Sounds shady. Let's take them out."

"Let's wait," she replied. "We don't want the Galbadians to find out we've been down here after they invade."

"What's it matter? They can't read the tablets anyway."

"Shut up, Seifer," Zell hissed. "Quisty's the leader. Just do what she says."

They hugged the wall, their flashlights off and waited for the couple to leave. But the deal was quickly deteriorating.

"I can't go another day," the woman announced. "I'll just take what I can get with what I have."

"It isn't much."

"How much?"

He sighed. "A couple grams. Maybe one hit."

"That's not enough."

So this was Dollet's underground in more ways than one, Quistis realized. As an out of the way place frequented only by those who had a certain disregard for the law, it was probably a safe place for Dollet's seedier residents to make a living in.

"We could take an exchange," a new voice said, another man.

The woman hesitated to reply, but not for the reason Quistis imagined. "How much would that get me?"

He rattled off an amount that meant nothing to Quistis, but seemed to interest the woman, who consented to the trade. A few long, silent minutes passed by before Quistis figured out exactly what that meant.

Seifer swore and pushed himself up off the floor.

"That's enough," he grumbled and walked around the corner before Quistis could stop him.

Despite her better judgment, she followed him, and caught a glimpse of pale limbs before he swung Hyperion through the air.

"Break it up!" he shouted and took a swing at the closest man. The woman screamed and scrambled away as Seifer nailed the man with a break spell, freezing him hard as stone in all his rotten glory. The second man pulled a gun out of nowhere and fired at Seifer. He missed and the bullet broke a sizable chip off the wall. Quistis cast a thunder spell on him that knocked the weapon from his hands and sent him sprawling, spitty and steaming on the floor.

Seifer leveled his blade at the woman.

"You should know," he said slowly, "that there are undead monsters in here."

They left her there, half naked and shaking with terror. It was completely unnecessary violence. But, Quistis reflected as they finally came up out of the catacombs, it was preferable to witnessing life's nearly dead mingling unnaturally with the long past.

The tunnel they followed led out into the fields above Dollet near the train station. The day was nearly spent, but even the weak light of the sinking sun was blinding after hours in the catacombs. They stopped to eat again before starting back for the city, and Quistis took the opportunity to visit a thundaga draw point she new existed just up the hill. She felt out the ground with her hand until she located the deep source of energy pulsing in the ground. But when she bent to touch it and draw from it, the energy shrank away.

"What're you doing?" Seifer asked. In the light now, she could tell that he was covered in blood and bone dust. An unholy combination that, strangely enough, worked for him.

"There's a draw point here," she explained. "But it's empty."

"Guess someone beat you to it."

"Who?"

He shrugged and gave her a strange, long look before reaching out to brush some of the dirt off her face. She went stiff.

"What are you doing?"

He jerked his hand away. "Nothing." Then he grew defensive. "God, you're touchy. You know that? And self-centered. Not everyone is a fan, you know. I'm not like that pub owner, ready to do anything and everything just because you're Quistis Trepe."

He walked the rest of the way back to town with his chin so high in the air that Quistis could see the small, red marks Save the Queen had left around his neck.


	15. Two Knights

Chapter 14: Two Knights

Shower fresh, Seifer scrubbed his fingers through his damp hair and searched the fridge for a beer. Another evening spent in Zell's company was definitely going to require some alcohol, if not hard liquor. Somehow, he didn't have either. Desperate, he even checked the pantry for wine (which he'd never been able to develop a taste for) before he was forced to settle for milk. He took the carton with him, thinking that if he drank enough of it, it might put him to sleep. Wasn't there some bullshit about kids' mothers doing that? He didn't know for sure.

In the living room, Zell was loudly delivering an embellished account of the catacombs to Raijin and Dr. Shipey. Quistis was sitting perched on the edge of the couch, posture perfect despite the long day, and was adding in corrective asides. She had a bowl of popcorn balanced between her knees and would toss a puff at Zell with every erroneous detail.

"Fujin's going to freak out if she sees that," Seifer said and gestured to the pile of popcorn developing at Zell's feet.

"Hey! I heard you fought an undead monster down there," Raijin said. "What was it like?"

"Easy," Seifer replied with a dismissive snort, then sat down next to Quistis and propped his feet up on the coffee table as Zell continued.

Across the room, Dr. Shipey was listening with only half an ear. Politeness prevented him from leaving the room completely, but his eyes were lingering on the perennial stack of papers in his lap as if they were photos of a beautiful woman and not just chocobo scratchings on a lump of rock. He'd been more than just a little fascinated by the photos they'd brought back from the crypts and had already translated enough of the tablet to know it was something important -- maybe even one of the missing set written by Jorgan E'Lizul.

Passively, Seifer nursed his milk until Fujin came back downstairs from her shower and, as predicted, pointed one shaking finger at the mess on the floor.

"CLEAN!" she demanded as she advanced on Zell. "NOW!"

Seifer laughed until his stomach ached as she watched over him like a dominatrix with her unwavering, wrathful glare and threatened him until he had every kernel plucked out of the thick carpet.

Once the spectacle was over and Fujin was satisfied, Dr. Shipey cleared his throat and tapped his fingers against his knee in the university professor equivalent of demanding silence. _Just what we all need, _Seifer thought, _another lecture._ To him, the whole mission was beginning to feel uncomfortably like school.

"I've finished with a large portion of the information we uncovered in the Tomb of the Unknown King," Shipey announced, then paused self-importantly before he continued. "The text repeats a lot of what we already know, including a vague reference to a weapon Vascaroon used to defeat Hyne. But it also contained some interesting information on the Brothers and some additional details regarding Hyne's return."

Sensing this could take a while, Seifer snatched a handful of popcorn from Quistis's bowl.

"I can't say for sure whether it's reliable or not," Shipey warned. "That tomb is at least as far from Vascaroon's time as we are from its time and a lot of information can be lost or miscommunicated in a thousand years. But a lot of what it had to say was pretty...well...alarming. So I figured that it would be best to..."

Quistis picked up his thought. "...to prepare for the worst."

"Right."

This was all too over-dramatic for Seifer's taste. "So, what the hell did it say then?"

"Well, first there's the prediction that Hyne will return, but it goes on to say that the sorceress power isn't all that Hyne needs to...coalesce, I guess you might say. There are three things he needs. First, of course, is the sorceress power. Second is the corporeal portion that was left behind when Vascaroon defeated him. And third is the portion of Hyne that went to the earth -- the planet. I think that might mean magic, as in draw points and so forth." Quistis murmured her agreement. "It's not a short process, so there are certain things Hyne is going to do to gain time. Dr. Odine has already claimed that this is what knights might be for."

Seifer's own memories of his time as a knight were hazy and confused. He remembered Ultimecia -- all red velvet, black feathers, and tiger stripes. And he remembered dizzy bouts of euphoria in between the flashes of gritty, broken reality. To him, something in Ultimecia had seemed boundless and sacrosanct. Maybe that had been Hyne, the face of God.

"But aside from knights," Dr. Shipey continued, jolting Seifer out of the past, "this legend claims that Hyne will also possess the power to trigger a Lunar Cry that will bring the _God Beasts_ down to earth."

"So they're not guardian forces then?" Zell asked. "They're something else?"

"I don't know. It's not that specific." Shipey shrugged. "I don't think they're guardian forces, but I don't _know_anything about guardian forces. All I know is that the legend says Hyne will call them down from the moon with the Lunar Cry."

Zell made a soft _hmm_ sound and said, "They could be like the monsters Ultimecia had in her castle. Like Tiamat and Krysta and stuff."

"Dr. Odine thinks that Ultimecia knew this legend," Quistis replied. "So, it's possible. Maybe that's one of the reasons she sought out the Lunatic Pandora."

"I think we should confer with Dr. Odine soon," Dr. Shipey advised. "He knows more about sorceresses than anyone else alive. I can read these tablets, but I can't tell you what they mean. He might be able to provide some more insight on what to expect from these God Beasts."

All the sorceress talk was putting Seifer on edge, so he snapped at Dr. Shipey, "He'd be guessing just like we are. I've gotta know sorceresses at least as well as he does, and I know Ultimecia never said anything about any God Beasts." He didn't care where they went next, as long as they didn't head back to Esthar. Dr. Odine's beady, knowing eyes sent shivers up his spine. And he wasn't particularly eager to come face to face with Laguna Loire again. That particular romance was over, crushed to dust.

Dr. Shipey wagged a scolding finger. "Even so, you might need to talk with him anyway. I don't know that much about how SeeDs operate, but I was under the impression that you rely heavily on magic. And magic isn't going to do you much good against Hyne."

Quistis looked concerned, but Seifer didn't find the prospect that daunting. He'd never been a heavy magic user because spells were long-range offense, and he preferred to meet his enemies close up. Loss of magic could affect their junctions, he supposed, but he'd never been very good at efficiently juggling his assets anyway. Hyne couldn't take away anything he'd miss.

"Out of curiosity," Quistis said, "what did it have to say about the Brothers?"

"Ah. Yes. The bit of good news. Guardian Forces seem to be useful against Hyne in some respect. The Brothers helped to defend the colony of Dollet during Vascaroon's time and remained guardians of the kingdom until it fell, as it were."

Deep in the recesses of Seifer's mind, Cactaur stirred. Roughly, he shoved the creature back into his subconscious and willed it to stay there. He'd never gotten used to the idea of sharing his mind and existence.

"I guess that's good news, but it's not going to be easy to find the weapon with all of these distractions," Quistis said. "Between spells getting harder to find, Krier's war with Esthar, and a Lunar Cry...the whole world is going to be thrown into chaos."

Shipey nodded slowly. "I think that's the idea."

As they fell into contemplative silence, digesting everything Shipey had said, Zell suddenly yawned so that every tooth in his head was on display and then scratched his belly.

"Man. I'm pooped," he said. "Do you guys have like...a guest room or something? This little couch really puts a cramp in my neck."

"LOVESEAT," Fujin corrected.

"Right. Anyway, don't you have another bed somewhere?"

"I'll trade you," Quistis offered. "You can take the couch and I'll take loveseat."

Seifer crunched the now empty milk carton in his hand and, before his good sense managed to override his big mouth said to Quistis, "How about you sleep with--"

He stopped, leaving everyone in the room starting at him, perfectly aware of what he'd been about to say. _Me. How about you sleep with me?_ Shit. Where had that come from?

"With...Fujin?" he finally managed.

"NO!"

Flushed, Quistis sank back in her seat, clutched the popcorn bowl to her stomach, and said, "The loveseat suits me fine. Thanks."

Crisis averted, everyone went their separate ways to get ready for bed, though Seifer lingered on the couch to enjoy the way Quistis squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. She'd never really garnered much of his attention aside from the dismissive contempt he felt toward her irritating fan club and her unmerited rise to glory. Still, she'd always been a shadow in his life: with him in his classes as a cadet, always breaking up fights he'd worked hard to pick with Squall, and eventually assigned as his instructor. In all of that time, he'd never looked at her as closely as he was now.

It wasn't anything sissy. He wasn't fawning over her like the guy at the pub. But he _was_ curious.

Did she always have such a short temper?

Had she always been so insecure?

"All of that milk is going to make you gassy," she said, surprising him.

"Is that why you don't want to sleep in my bed?" he asked -- _Fuck. Shut up._

"Certainly doesn't add to the mystique." She stretched out her legs and he watched her toes curl inward. "Anyway, I thought you said I'd be sharing with Fujin."

"Fujin _and_ me. I like to be surrounded by as many beautiful women as possible."

One of her eyebrows arched. "Beautiful?"

"Relatively speaking. You know...compared to Raijin and Zell." This wasn't going the way he'd intended. Wisely, he chose to change the subject. "You ever going to spill the beans on that pub owner?"

"There's nothing to spill. I already told you."

"No man tears down his bar for a girl who beat him at cards."

She scowled. "I didn't ask him to 'tear it down.' He just did me a simple favor out of common human decency. I know you're probably unfamiliar with the concept..."

A highbrow insult, but it drew a soft sigh out him nonetheless. Ever since he'd kissed her, she'd been as responsive in conversation as the notorious Squall Leonhart. And he couldn't read her when she wasn't yelling at or chiding him -- a set of circumstances that had rarely occurred before. He didn't want to have a heart to heart. But he hated being ignored.

"You really shouldn't trade with Zell," he said after a long pause. "That midget fits just fine on the loveseat."

"Why are you so concerned with where I'm sleeping?"

"I'm not."

Zell jumped to the bottom of the stairs from four steps up, startling both of them with a loud, minty, "Ahhh!" He grinned and his teeth gleamed in the evening lamplight. "I love that freshly flossed feeling!" Seifer fought back his gag reflex as Zell ran his tongue all along his teeth and moaned with nearly indecent delight.

He was wearing a pair of red pajamas that were about four sizes too big, rolled up both at the sleeves and at the ankles, and in his hand he was clutching a gray blanket and a white pillow -- all of it obviously borrowed from Raijin. He tossed the pillow and the blanket onto the couch beside Seifer, then shadow boxed his way into the kitchen.

"What a loser," Seifer mumbled, and then got up. He felt uncomfortable sitting alone with Quistis now, as if he'd been caught doing something he hadn't intended anyone to know about. "You'd better get into the bathroom before Raij," he told her before heading toward the stairs. "Trust me. You don't want to be in there after he's done."

She took the warning as seriously as he'd meant it and bounded through the bathroom door like a frightened doe. Across the hall in his bedroom, Seifer could hear the water running and her soft humming. Self conscious, he wadded up the dirty clothes he'd left strewn across the floor and tossed them into a hamper hanging half out of his closet before stretching out on his bed. The overstuffed pillows and down comforter puffed up around him: crunchy, musky, and warm.

Downstairs, he heard Zell set a glass down and belch. The man was a goddamn monkey that could speak. He couldn't believe Quistis had given up a measure of her own comfort for _that_. What did she care whether Zell had a stiff neck? And why did _he_ care either way?

Restless, he eventually plucked one of the pillows off his bed and took one of the extra blankets out of his closet, then headed back downstairs with them.

Zell was already spread out in complete abandon on the couch, snoring like a dying walrus. A row of pearly white, blunt teeth stuck out between his lips, which were practically fluttering in the gale force winds sucking in and out of his nose. Somehow, the repulsive site was familiar, and the snores reminded him of something important but just beyond the reach of his ravaged memory.

Dismissing the unsettling thought, he stacked the pillow and blanket on the loveseat for Quistis, then thought twice and tipped the pile over so it looked careless and haphazard. She'd never know it was his doing in the first place, but there was no point in taking any chances.

Satisfied, he was about to retreat back to his bedroom when Zell snorted and began snoring with renewed zest. Seifer was drawn to it like a train wreck. Before he knew what he was about, he found himself standing in front of the couch, staring down at the human carnage that was Zell Dincht's sleep cycle, all shuddering breath and rippling flaps. It sawed and grated, stung like salt on a fresh wound.

So he reached out and pinched Zell's nostrils shut.

_Silence._

And then, a quiet, "What are you doing?"

He jerked back and the unperturbed Zell resumed. Quistis stood at the bottom of the stairs in a tank top and a pair of shorts that said "Dollet Junk Shop" across the waist band.

"It won't make him stop," she advised. "He'll just breathe through his mouth until you let go."

"The idea was to smother him to death," Seifer replied.

Her quick eyes went from him, to Zell, and then to the loveseat, taking it all in.

"Are those yours?" she asked and gestured to the bedding.

"No. Must be Fujin's," he lied. "She probably brought it down while you were in the bathroom. What took you so long anyway? Can't wash away ugly."

She frowned but didn't take the bait. Instead, she pushed past him and said, "Goodnight."

Zell's snoring followed Seifer all the way up the stairs where his bed was waiting for him, empty and one pillow short.

0 0 0

Selphie looped an arm around Irvine's middle. "You can lean against me if you need to," she said. Even though he was feeling fine, he let her take a little bit of his weight. They were on their way to his dorm from the infirmary where Dr. Kadowaki had finally given him the okay to leave with her oft repeated maxim that natural healing was best.

"Thanks, Sefie," he said and twirled a finger in her hair. It curled soft and sinuous around his knuckle.

"I got some movies from the library," she told him. "I'll get you dinner and then we can watch them until you fall asleep. Dr. Kadowaki said you should take it easy. And since we're traveling, you should probably just relax."

"I'd love to. What movies did you get?" Behind his back, he crossed his fingers.

"For tonight, I got _Glory_," she replied. A war movie. Irvine fought the urge to lift her clear off the floor and hug her. God, he loved this woman. "Is that okay with you?"

"It's perfect."

_You're perfect._

Feeling a flood of affection, Irvine tipped the hat from his head and pushed it down on top of hers, making her giggle. He knotted his hand in her hair and pulled her face toward his. He wouldn't ever kiss another girl, he thought, if she would just let him have this...have _them_. His lips were whispering across hers when Xu interrupted.

"Selphie! Irvine!" She was jogging down the hall toward them.

"Hey, Xu. What's up?" Selphie asked without so much as a sigh of frustration. Irvine, on the other hand, gave Xu the most evil look he could muster and leaned further into Selphie to remind her that he was unwell and so a priority.

"Have you seen the headmaster?" Xu asked. "I've been looking for him all day, and I've checked all over Garden. I can't find him anywhere."

"Haven't seen him. Have you, Irvy?"

"Not lately." Irvine hadn't seen much of anyone lately.

Xu frowned and deep, craggy worry lines broke out around her mouth and eyes.

"I asked him to go talk to Squall," she said quietly. "I told him that we were heading into Galbadian territory without any explanation, and he said he'd take care of it. But that was this morning. I haven't seen him since."

"Maybe Squall told him why we're going to Centra," Selphie suggested.

As far as Irvine could tell, there was no reason anyone would go to Centra. Nothing existed there except a desert full to the brim with cactaurs and the shell of Edea's old orphanage, long since burned and abandoned.

"I haven't seen Squall either," Xu replied. "And I'm getting worried. _Really_ worried. Cid hasn't been in his office or up to the bridge all day long. No one has seen him."

"I'm sure that if he's with Squall, he's fine," Selphie said.

Xu's lips pinched together until they turned white.

"You think _Squall_ did something to him?" Selphie asked, dumbfounded. "No way. It's Squall! There's just no way!"

Even in the infirmary, Irvine had heard the uneasy whispers of the faculty who were beginning to question Squall's leadership as Garden plowed further into Galbadian territory without explanation. Had Garden not been populated by people so used trusting their superiors and taking orders, he supposed a revolt might have occurred the night that President Krier appeared on television and declared war. Irvine had even gotten a few angry glares, and he hadn't been directly associated with Galbadia Garden for nearly three years. All of the tension and unrest was evidently weighing heavily on Xu, but as Irvine stared at her, he wondered if she might be right.

Squall hadn't been himself since they'd left Trabia.

"It's possible," he finally said. Selphie glared at him in disbelief. "I just mean that Squall's been acting weird lately. Like, he doesn't exactly communicate, but he's not secretive. If you ask him a question, he usually answers. Plus, we've still got Angelo in your dorm, and he won't even talk about coming to get her back."

"Right. It's not like him," Xu agreed.

"It's still crazy to even think he might have hurt Headmaster Cid," Selphie grumbled.

"Maybe. But I'm on my way to the bridge now." The wrinkles on Xu's face flattened into smooth determination. "I'm going to order Garden to turn around and head back toward Balamb. That's what Cid said he was going to do last I saw him."

"Are you sure you shouldn't just keep looking for him?" Irvine asked. "You can't just go over Squall's head like that. You don't have the rank to do that."

"We're at war," she reminded him sourly. "And Headmaster Cid will support me when we find him. So I'm going to do what he indicated we should do. I'm going to order Nida to turn us around and take us home. This isn't about rank."

Xu straightened her tie and shouldered past them, her stride long and confident as she walked toward the elevator. She was the sort of person who held the world like a ball of putty in the palm of her hand. She wasn't prone to worry or doubt. So the fact that she was even remotely concerned about the Headmaster's well-being weighed heavily on Irvine's mind. Like Selphie, he couldn't believe that Squall was capable of hurting Cid in order to complete this vague mission in Centra. But at the same time, he couldn't rule it out -- not when he remembered the foggy confusion that had glazed over Squall's eyes that night in Trabia.

Delicate fingers tightened around his middle, and he found Selphie looking up at him with wide, green eyes and her mouth hanging open.

"Shouldn't we stop her or something?" she asked.

"She seems pretty determined," Irvine replied. "But...maybe we should like...go along just in case."

Selphie nodded.

"And then we can get back to our movie night." Why did things keep coming up to interrupt his time with her? It was like they just weren't meant to be, and Irvine didn't even want to consider that possibility.

"You bet! Let's go!" She pinched him, right between his sore ribs, before turning and jogging after Xu. He hissed with the pain and tears threatened to squeeze from his eyes, but he fought them back. He didn't want Selphie to see that she'd inadvertently hurt him or she might get scared to come close again. Still, he couldn't hide the stiffness in his walk.

Selphie waited for him in the elevator where she held the door open with one booted foot and loudly sent away anyone who tried to get in with her.

They arrived on the third floor just as Garden slowed and began to turn. Under his feet, Irvine could feel Garden begin to tilt and sway as it bucked the waves surging in toward shore to change direction. By the time they rode the second elevator up to the bridge, Garden was more than halfway through the turn and Xu was looking out the windows at the moon rising in the east. Nida stood at the helm, one hand still resting on the navigation console, and his features were blanched white.

"I'm just following orders," he said right away when he noticed Selphie and Irvine.

Garden heaved as they crested over their own wake before crashing back down to settle in the choppy ocean stretching out before them, white capped and uneasy. Wherever they were, Irvine thought, Squall and Cid had to be paying attention now.

0 0 0

"What was that?" Rinoa asked.

Falling from numb fingers, Squall's fork clattered to his plate. Across the table, Rinoa was staring at him with wide eyes rimmed with concern. The small juice box he'd brought her from the cafeteria had slid off the table and into her lap. She was holding it up now in one hand.

"I think we just..."

Another unnerving quake took hold of the floor, and Rinoa dropped the juice to grab hold of the table.

"Squall?"

"Hold on."

Dinner forgotten, he climbed on top of their bed to look out the window, expecting to see the ocean stretching far and wide, illuminated only by the meager starlight and the rising moon. Instead, mountainous countryside blocked his view of the sky and the red glow of Galbadia Garden lurked in the distance. His fingers pressed flat against the glass and then curled to his palms with angry disbelief.

They'd turned around. Somehow, even with everything he'd done to make sure that Garden stayed on course, they were heading back to Balamb.

"Shit," he swore quietly.

"What is it?" Rinoa asked. "What's happening?" Her voice had a hard edge to it, a deep and demanding tone that reminded him vaguely of Ultimecia when she'd spoken through Edea. When he turned around, he thought he saw a strange shadow surrounding her -- a monstrous halo -- but it faded with a blink into the domestic background of their interrupted dinner and their comfortable faculty suite.

"We've turned around," he explained.

"I thought you took care of that." Again, something in her sharpened. Maybe it was her eyes flashing hazel in the lamplight. Squall could feel the intensity in her like an iron band wrapping around his heart and squeezing off the flow of blood before she softened again. When the clouds cleared from his vision, he couldn't see anything unusual about her except concern tracing delicate lines across her brow. He walked over to her and cleared them away with a brush of his hand, dusting them off like settling snow.

"It must be Xu."

"We have to get to Centra," Rinoa reminded him.

"I know."

Her small, lily white hands settled on his forearms and slid warmly around to his elbows.

"Don't worry about it." She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'll go take care of it. You stay here and finish eating. Okay?"

She pulled back and smiled. "You're the best knight I could hope for."

He ate up her praise like candy and rushed to retrieve Lionheart from its case in the closet. With luck, he wouldn't have to use it. He had no particular feelings for Xu, but he respected her enough as a SeeD to hope she'd see things his way.

"I'll be right back," he promised and left for the bridge.

After Cid came to him that morning, he knew he should have expected this from Xu, but he'd never been particularly good at strategizing. He didn't have the experience to think on large scales, to plan a defense against the dragon's tail even after the head was removed. Ideally, he supposed he should have dealt with Xu right after the Galbadian attack, right after he'd learned of Quistis's treachery. The two had always been close. As he got in the elevator, he searched his memory for any other tight relationships either Quistis or Zell had that could have been corrupted. There was the girl in the library who'd been flirting with Zell since they'd both been cadets, and that instructor Quistis had gone on a date with a few weeks ago. He made a mental note to confront them both.

Somehow, his life had come to this, filled with suspicion and betrayal.

His hand was tight around the hilt of Lionheart when he emerged on the third floor. The headmaster's office was quiet and dim. For a moment, he stopped and looked up toward the bridge, hesitant to ride the elevator up and solidify his suspicions. If he ignored this problem, would it just go away?

Not likely. And he had to protect Rinoa. It didn't matter who he was protecting her from.

Stomach around his knees, he rode the elevator up to the bridge. Immediately, a chorus of voices assailed him.

Dizzy, he glanced from face to face, unable to make out what each one was saying. Xu was reserved, arms crossed as she stood by the windows. Nida, at the controls, was waving his hands in wild apology, mouth moving fast. Surprisingly, Irvine and Selphie were there as well. He narrowed in on them.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Just making sure everything's okay," Irvine replied.

Anger rumbled in Squall's stomach. "It's not. We've changed course. Who authorized this?"

"I did," Xu replied.

He turned to her. "And who gave you permission?"

The smile that cracked her serene expression was small and threatening. "The headmaster."

"That's not possible."

"Why?" she asked. "What have you done with him?"

Squall's mind reeled as a drunken memory of folding a stiff, waxy Cid into a maintenance closet punched him hard in the gut. He remembered the look of surprise on the older man's face and the way his lips had froze open in a small gasp of betrayal, but not much of what had happened after that. Something of his horror must have shown on his face, or in his hesitation, because Xu pointed at him accusingly.

"How could you? How could you do this to Garden?"

Selphie jumped to his defense. "Xu! He didn't do anything!"

Maybe she was still trustworthy. Squall turned to Nida. "Turn us around right now. You won't be disciplined. I know you were just following orders."

Nida reached for the helm, but Xu grabbed his wrist. "No. Don't."

"Look, Squall...maybe if you just tell us what's so important in Centra..." Irvine drawled slowly.

He was just trying to defuse the situation, but Squall didn't want anyone's attention diverted from the corruption that was ripping through Garden like a plague.

"Xu is a traitor," he proclaimed, glancing to Selphie and Irvine. "She's trying to drive us back into a Galbadian trap."

"I would never betray Garden and Headmaster Cid!" she fired back. "But you...you killed him, didn't you?"

He couldn't quite recall. Cid had been cold, inflexible, and still. He could have been dead; Squall hadn't checked to see. So his honest, overtaxed brain forced through his lips a quiet, "Maybe."

"What?" Selphie went visibly weak in the knees. "You _killed_ Headmaster Cid?"

The accusation, phrased so cleanly, tore right through him and plastered his heart to the wall, leaving behind hollow doubt and uncertainty. "No!" he replied instinctively. Then, as confusion took over, he added, "I don't know."

Xu sighed. "I'm going to have to relieve you of duty, Squall. We'll have to put you in custody until we find the headmaster. Irvine will find Rinoa and tell her what's happened. Where is she? In your room?"

The question, though seemingly innocent, snapped him to attention and flushed way all the guilty fog that had been clouding his thoughts. Irvine, Selphie, Xu, and Nida were waiting for an answer, all of them wanting to know where Rinoa was...where he'd _left_ her when he came up to the bridge. Suddenly, it all made sense. Quistis and Zell hadn't betrayed Garden, just him. The entire mission to Trabia, the bizarre way that Esthar and Galbadia had been working together, had all been about getting to Rinoa, the world's last sorceress.

"Squall?" Selphie prompted in a small voice.

He swung Lionheart in her direction. "Stop. Don't come near me. I don't want to hurt you."

And he didn't. But he couldn't let them hurt Rinoa either, who he'd stupidly left behind unprotected and surrounded.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Xu lunge into the small opening he'd created when he turned toward Selphie. Even though she was unarmed, she was junctioned and had a spell ready, already buzzing blue-green around her as she pulled her magic together and directed it at him. There wasn't time to react before the spell hit -- holy -- but it glanced off his defenses and he felt the magic sink harmlessly into his body rather than ravage it. With the adrenaline rush that followed, he swung Lionheart broadside at Xu, aiming for her head. He only managed to get her arm as she ducked out of the way. Still, he felt the limb give way and bend under the power of his blow.

She screamed and crumpled to the floor.

"Squall!" Irvine yelled, sounding insignificant and far away.

Lionheart came back around with its own life and will, a deadly blue crescent following an old training pattern inexorably toward the back of Xu's neck even as Squall was hit by a moment of doubt. _This is wrong. What are you doing?_

Something pulled hard on his shoulder blades, making the swing miss by inches and the force of it made the lapel of Xu's jacket ripple. The muscles in his back spasmed and protested, but whatever had him gripped tighter and pulled his feet back across the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Selphie standing with her hands in the air, her small body straining and shivering as she cast a spell on him against which he had no defense.

A convulsion raced up her torso like a clog coming free of a drain and he felt it hit him hard, taking his feet out from underneath him and throwing him back against, and then through, the wall of the elevator. A cloud of white pinions bound him like a raging tornado and threw him halfway across the headmaster's office below before they shimmered and dissolved back into reality like so much melting cotton candy.

Dazed and aching, he struggled to his feet. Hot currents of magic were still running down his back, stinging and scorching until he felt as if he had two angel's wings tattooed forever across his bones.

The aftermath of Selphie's limit break followed him all the way to the elevator where he had to lean against the wall to try and catch his breath. Even through the agony, all he could think was that he had to get Rinoa out of Garden. They were coming for her.

0 0 0

On the bridge, Irvine brushed Selphie's hair out of her face and pulled her up off her knees until she was standing. Her face was drawn and the hat he'd affectionately put on her head had fallen off in the wake of her spell. She looked at him with the widest, most heartbreaking eyes he'd ever seen. He wanted to crush her to his chest and hold on tight now that everything was changing. However the winds blew, he didn't want fate to separate them again. But Xu was still howling in pain behind them and fumbling across the floor with her shattered arm.

"Don't move," Nida told her and put a firm hand down against her back. "I can heal you if you'll let me set it."

Searching for some sense of normality, Irvine bent down to retrieve his hat. Even having seen it with his own eyes, he couldn't believe that Squall had attacked Xu, and he wasn't sure he'd ever come to grips with the idea that Squall could have hurt Headmaster Cid. This was supposed to be movie night. Right now, he thought, he should have been curled up in bed with Selphie watching a bunch of grainy, black and white Galbadians crouching in a foxhole. Instead he'd looked down the wrong side of Squall's gunblade and saw a new enemy.

Was this how Quistis, Zell, and the others had felt when they saw Seifer in Deling City, he wondered?

Nida dropped onto his haunches and examined Xu's arm. "What's going on?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," she whimpered. "But if he's done something to Cid, then he's lost it. And he's dangerous. He seemed like he didn't even _know_ whether he'd done something."

"He's been..." Irvine hesitated, not knowing how to describe it. "He's been distracted lately."

"We need to get on the intercom and warn everyone," Xu said.

"Warn them and then what? Order them to attack Squall? He'd wipe the floor with our SeeDs." He'd be able to hold up for a long time against any of them, Irvine realized. He was a powerful friend and a terrifying foe. Against the navigation panel, the intercom button gleamed silent silver, waiting for someone to step up and fill the leadership vacuum.

"What's the alternative?" Xu asked and groaned as Nida's nimble fingers kneaded the bruised and swollen flesh around her break.

"Maybe we can still talk some sense into him," Selphie suggested.

Xu sat up and braced herself as Nida prepared to set her arm. "And if you can't?"

Irvine replied, "With Quistis and Zell, we might be able to take him. I'll say we absolutely can if Rinoa will help as well."

He was nauseated by the pathetic sight of Xu lying on the floor, Squall's tacit admission to murder, and driven to fever chills by the fact that he might once again have to look down the barrel of his gun at a person he loved. He'd hardly been able to fire at Edea in Deling City when she'd been the shadow of a familiar figure from his childhood, and even then he'd collapsed with a sigh of relief when his bullet failed to find its mark. Seeing Squall in snuggled between Exeter's sites would be unbearable.

"You need to make an announcement," Xu insisted.

For a knee wobbling moment of cowardice, he wished for Quistis. She was pushy and bossy, and she would have taken charge of this situation without having to be asked. Irvine wasn't a leader.

Xu wailed with Nida's first attempt to align her bones. It was a horrible backdrop to accompany Irvine's first foray into power. He waited for her cries to subside before he opened the P.A. system and cleared his throat.

"Attention Garden," he began. "This is Irvine, ordering all cadets to take cover. Lock the door wherever you are or return immediately to your dorm. SeeDs..." He had to take a breath to work up the courage to say it. "SeeDs, please be advised that Commander Squall Leonhart should be considered dangerous. Keep your distance and only approach him with extreme caution."

He closed the intercom and felt a lead weight of responsibility settle in his gut. He was intensely grateful when Selphie shouldered her share of the load.

"Is there any way Squall can get off Garden?" she asked Xu.

"No. The Ragnarok is in Esthar. And all of our subs are gone...the Galbadians stole the last one when they were here. So there's nowhere he can go unless he can take control of Garden and beach us."

"Okay." Selphie counted off the points of her plan on her fingers. "You and Nida can stay here then and guard the bridge. Right? It would be a mega-bummer if we ended up stuck in Galbadia right now. Me and Irvy can go see if we can reason with Squall. Zell and Quisty are probably already on their way, so if we need to we can...do what we have to."

"I'll see what I can do about getting us into lockdown," Xu replied. "And I'll try calling Squall's room before he gets there; see if I can get a hold of Rinoa. If anyone can reason with him, she can."

Against Dr. Kadowaki's orders, Irvine cast a cure spell on himself as he walked with Selphie to the elevator. Natural healing very well might be best, but he didn't have the luxury to wait at the moment. The immediate, albeit temporary, relief as well as the martial confidence that came with having a solid plan in place eased his concerns. Of course, Rinoa would be able to smooth all of this out. Maybe Squall was just having some sort of nervous breakdown -- God knows he certainly was allowed one after single handedly leading them to Ultimecia's doorstep.

"It'll all work out," he assured Selphie in the elevator.

She nodded, her hair bobbing bright and springy on top of the yellow straps of her dress. "Of course, it will."

He wanted to kiss her (for luck or for goodbye) but knew she wouldn't let him.

When the doors opened onto the first floor, they were immediately approached by five uniformed SeeDs who saluted and formed a tidy line at the bottom of the stairs.

"We've got all the underclassmen safe and accounted for," one of them announced. They were so much faster now than they had been during the war.

"Good. Have you seen Squall?" Irvine asked.

"He was spotted running toward the dorms during headcount. We didn't approach him, but there are a detail of SeeDs keeping an eye on his position. I believe he was heading back to his room."

"How about Quistis Trepe or Zell Dincht?" Selphie asked. "Have you seen them?"

"No, Sir."

"Huh? Not at all?" She made a face that made the SeeDs shift and bunch in their line. "Did you check their dorms?"

"No...they're SeeDs."

With a creeping sense of foreboding, Irvine searched his mind but couldn't think of anything short of death or dismemberment that would keep Quistis from responding to the alarming message he'd delivered. Even though her relationship with Squall had always been tense and uneasy, there was still a deep undercurrent of affection obvious in the way she approached him. She should have been the first one on the scene. A whole detail of SeeDs should have been committed to trying to peel her off Squall's door. And yet, no one had seen her?

"You stay here and guard the elevator," he ordered the SeeDs. "We're in lockdown until Xu announces otherwise, so no one is allowed off their current floor."

With Selphie in tow, he started for the dorms, very aware of the fact that they were both unarmed and that their backup was mysteriously missing in action. Like Cid. Had Squall done something to Quistis and Zell as well? For the moment, he knew he couldn't dwell on their fate. If they were alive, they'd respond. If not...the world as he knew it was already over anyway.

"Xu told me yesterday that she couldn't find Zell and Quisty," Selphie yelled from behind him. "She said she hadn't gotten any reports or anything from them since Trabia."

"I saw them in the Training Center the day we were attacked," he called back.

"Yeah! I know! I told her that. But you're the only one. I haven't seen them either. Are you sure it was them?"

He grumbled far back in his throat. "I'm sure!"

_Seifer_. He'd been in the Training Center that day, too. Suddenly certain, Irvine knew that all of this had to trace back to the trouble-making knight. Somehow, it was all his fault. Again.

In the dormitory wing, a few rebellious cadets were peeking through open cracks in their doors which hissed shut as Irvine and Selphie passed. Everyone was hoping to catch a glimpse of something...of history being made. By the time they arrived in front of Squall's door, a thick group of both uniformed and plain clothed SeeDs had gathered there. Quistis and Zell were conspicuously absent from the crowd.

"Hey! Out of the way!" Selphie barged through with a wave of her tiny hand. "Is he in there?"

"Yeah. We think so," someone replied. They all looked like they were expecting some insight into what was happening and were puzzled when Selphie bravely rapped on the door with her knuckles and called out, "Squall! It's Selphie!"

From inside there was no response.

She tried again. "Is Rinoa in there with you?"

They waited, but still only silence. Irvine couldn't even make out the soft sounds of movement within.

"We just want you to come out and tell us what's happened," Irvine said. "I know there's gotta be some reason. Like..." He couldn't come up with one. "There's gotta be something."

After five minutes of no luck, Irvine finally took his ID from his pocket and swiped it through the door's lock. It slid open with a gentle, mundane sound that was not half as dramatic as it should have been. Selphie was the first one to step over the threshold into the forbidden arena of Squall's suite, but Irvine followed close behind.

Inside, only one light was on, a small blue lamp on the table where a half-eaten dinner was still lying warm and savory on abandoned plates. The covers on the bed were thrown off on one side, and a pair of Squall's boots was sitting by the door. Other than that, the room was cold and vacant. Squall had given them the slip. Irvine picked up the telephone receiver and punched in the four digit extension for the bridge. Xu picked up.

"It's Irvine," he said. "Did you get a hold of Rinoa? We're in their room right now, and nobody is here."

"No one picked up when I called."

Irvine turned away from the door so the other SeeDs wouldn't hear what he was about to say. "We can't find Quistis or Zell either."

"I'll try their rooms," she offered. "But don't hold your breath."

Selphie checked the bathroom and the closets just to be sure, and Irvine heard Xu punching keys on the other end of the line.

"Xu!" Nida yelled from somewhere far away. "Look!"

She hummed with interest at whatever Nida was pointing out, then spoke directly into the phone so that her voice was overpowering. "Squall just accessed the parking garage with his ID. He might not know the Galbadians stole that sub."

"Great! Thanks!" He dropped the phone back onto its cradle and grabbed Selphie's hand. "Come on. Parking garage."

This time, they sprinted, feet pounding the linoleum and lungs gasping. To save time, Irvine leapt the railing along the walkway leading back into the center hub of Garden and took off through the dark grass between the dormitory wing and the garage. Chirping crickets whizzed past Irvine's head as he ran, hoping like hell he'd get to his friend before someone else did. Selphie had to skid to a stop behind him as he paused to open the door, but then they were both in the familiar yellow hallway, running past the fake fern and the red fire extinguisher.

Ahead, the door was still open.

"Squall!" Selphie yelled as they slid to a stop just in front of an oil stain on the concrete. Row after row of Garden cars were parked in the dark space.

From behind a yellow one, the gossamer length of Squall's gunblade slowly emerged. He followed behind it, eyes narrowed and hair hanging wild in his face.

"Don't come near me," he warned.

Irvine held his hands up, even more aware now that they weren't armed. "Just tell us what's going on."

He shook his head and his dark hair brushed against his unusually pale cheeks.

"There isn't anywhere to go," Selphie said softly. "Xu has us in lockdown."

Wavering, he glanced over his shoulder at the empty moon pool glowing at the back of the garage. "You can just come with us," Irvine offered.

"No!" Lionheart jumped higher in his hands and he pointed it with more force directly at Selphie. "I won't let you have her."

"Have...who?" Irvine asked.

"Rinoa."

Squall had lost it completely. "We don't want Rinoa..." Irvine replied, trying to sound sincere past the confusion muddling thoughts.

"Stay back! Don't come near her."

Behind him, in the shadows of the parked cars, something moved. Rinoa, it had to be. She hadn't been in their room, but Squall had been heading there when the other SeeDs spotted him. He must have retrieved her before slipping off to make his escape.

"Is that you, Rinoa?" Irvine called out.

The shadow behind Squall glittered and moved like a mass of black beetles before a single black feather resolved out of the chaos. Another followed, bound to the first like the shoulder of a great raven's wing. Slowly, slouching and lumbering, something resembling a girl stepped out to stand behind Squall and reached up to lay one skeletal, sharp hand upon his shoulder. She peered over it at them with her waves of dark black hair cascading over tiger striped skin and with her clear, hazel eyes that were so distracting, so reminiscent of Edea and Ultimecia, that Irvine almost didn't notice the black feathers extend out into two long, papery wings. She whispered to Squall softly, in a voice that was slow and old.

"Protect me."

A spell flared to life in Squall's hand.

"That's..." Selphie took a deep breath. "Squall, that's not Rinoa."

The creature squeezed his shoulder, her long nails digging into the flesh under his thick coat.

"Holy hell..." Irvine gasped and grabbed Selphie's arm. Squall's fire spell hit him square in the back as he shifted Selphie behind him, sending hot jets of pain across his spinal column and burning his hair until Selphie spilled a potion from her pocket over him to put it out.

The rest of Garden's SeeDs were just arriving and were clogging up the door with their shocked, open mouthed stares when the sorceress, or whatever she was, looped both arms around Squall, then her wings, leaving just their heads showing above a cape of midnight scale, leather, and bone.

"I can't believe you'd do this," Squall said quietly. "You two, and Quistis, Zell, Xu...the headmaster. I can't believe you'd all do this to Rinoa."

"Stop, Squall!" Selphie yelled and waved her arms. "That's not..."

The sorceress interrupted her with a hiss that softened to a whine. In a familiar, sweet voice that wrenched Irvine's heart out, she sighed out a pained, "I'm sorry, Selphie."

And then they shimmered into the shadow and sank like fog through the floor. Gone.


	16. Gravity of Love

A/N: Many thanks go out with this and all subsequent chapters to my brand new beta reader, Zachere (who I still can't believe agreed to do it).

Chapter 15: Gravity of Love

"Where are we?" Squall asked.

"Nowhere," Rinoa replied.

"Nowhere..." It was warm and soft, a sweet cocoon. Though he couldn't see or feel anything particularly solid, he felt peaceful within Rinoa's embrace, and a comfortable disregard for material reality settled over him.

"You don't have to do this, you know," Rinoa whispered in his ear, her breath shifting his hair against his neck. "You don't have to stay with me, even though I made you promise. I'll forgive you."

She misunderstood his motive. "I love you," he explained, expecting that to end the conversation. He had no more complex reasoning than the simple rhythm of his heart. Here, nothing else mattered.

"I know you do," she replied. He was surprised to hear a hint of sadness in her voice. Gentle fingers brushed across his eyebrows, then down his jaw. "You're such a good…such a beautiful man."

In the gauzy darkness, he took a deep breath. Though his lungs didn't fill, he felt something smooth and easy shift over him like a blanket. He tried to pull her closer. How could she be so fragile when he was grasping the roof of heaven?

"You should do what's right," she said.

"I am."

"For the world..."

"I don't care about the world."

_Oh..._she melted into him like cream. He was grateful to have this moment, combing his fingers through her hair in a gentle void with nothing to come between them and no one to fight. He was tried of struggling, hurting...dying. Here he felt forever stretching in every direction, and it didn't frighten him.

"Stay close," she whispered.

Then, like an infant, he was carefully set down upon something forgiving. He could feel the weight returning to his body, his heart squeezing hard to push blood to his heavy limbs, and the softness slipped away as Rinoa gripped him tighter. White noise flooded his waking senses and made his eyelids flutter. What was it? Voices? The wind? He didn't want to be thrown back into chaos and fought the sensation of something cold and damp pressing against the side of his head. Maybe, he thought wistfully, it was blood and soon he would slip away again. But instead of taking him back to nowhere, it heightened his senses and made him more aware.

He was lying on his belly with Rinoa spread limp across his back, breathing slow and ragged in his ear. Painfully, his unwilling eyes cracked open and a dark stretch of beach dawned around them in shades of black, silver, and blue. Waves played a syncopated rhythm against the meter of Rinoa's breath. And a curious crab was scuttling across the sand toward them, waving one large claw in greeting.

Squall groaned, spit salty dirt from his mouth, and swatted the crab over onto its back once it was within range. Alarmed, the crab quickly righted itself with its claws and sprinted for the surf, leaving behind a small, straight trail of marks in the sand.

Gently, he rolled Rinoa off him. He couldn't remember how they'd gotten to the beach or why she was on top of him. But the dark crescents her eyelashes made against her pale cheeks and the way her lips were parted in empty silence concerned him. She looked exhausted, like they'd washed up onto shore after a lost battle.

They'd been in Garden, he recalled, running from Xu and her SeeDs. He pressed a gloved hand to Rinoa's chest and looked around. The sea was dark and the grassy hills rolling away from the beach slumbered peacefully. No one was running after them or waiting to attack them. They were safe. Squall was grateful enough for the reprieve that he didn't dwell much on questioning where it had come from. Instead, he gathered Rinoa up in his arms and brushed the hair from her face.

"Hey..." He cradled her head up in the crook of his elbow. "Rinoa."

He saw her throat move as she swallowed. Then, slowly, she whispered, "Squall?"

"Come on. Get up." He propped her up so that she was sitting.

"I'm tired."

"I know. But you've got to get up."

She sighed. "Okay."

Squall's legs were wobbly as he stood. He picked up Lionheart and worked out the stiffness in his joints before returning to Rinoa to help her up.

"We should get moving," he said, sensing that wherever they were, Garden wouldn't be far behind. Even with her broken arm, Xu was a force to be reckoned with. He figured she would regroup, maybe even pick up Quistis and Zell somewhere, and then try to intercept him on his way to Centra. Which meant he had to get there first.

Rinoa pointed up the hillside. "Go that way."

"Why? What's that way?" he asked.

Instead of answering directly, she pointed in the opposite direction and said, "That way is Deling City." She pivoted at a right angle. "And that way is Galbadia Garden."

"Right. Toward Dollet then." Rinoa leaned on him as they started walking. "We could probably catch a train from there to Timber."

"As long as we get to Centra."

"We will. I promise."

But first, Dollet. At least there they would be out of Galbadian territory. Everyone in the world was suddenly the enemy. He wished he could go back to the beach and lie down again with Rinoa in his arms where they could drift away together.

As if sensing his thoughts, she squeezed his hand.

"I'll make it better," she said. "Everything is all wrong now. It's upside down, you know. Full of mistakes. But I'll fix it. You'll see."

Puzzled, he slipped his fingers between hers and let her strange reassurances ease his anxiety. Maybe things would be better one day. If she believed it, so could he.

0 0 0

Irvine stood in Zell's dorm room, searching for any sign of life among the piles of Combat King magazines, dirty clothes, and old food wrappers. Across the dorms, Selphie was conducting the same search in Quistis's room, though he figured she was probably having an easier time of it and not wading through what had to be two solid years worth of refuse. Irvine was curious: was this what happened to kids who grew up with mothers?

The sheets on Zell's bed were piled at the foot and the pillow was at an odd angle. It could have been recently slept in or just never made -- Irvine couldn't tell. On the desk, next to a framed photograph of Zell with his family, was his ID card with an old picture from the day he made SeeD printed in the bottom right corner. Irvine picked it up and ran his thumb across the embossed Garden logo. It was a discouraging remnant of Zell's life to find left behind. Garden ID cards were the only way SeeDs could withdraw money, access private cars on trains, enter foreign countries with weapons, and use any of Garden's restricted facilities. No one in Garden left the dorms without their ID.

Irvine slipped the card into his pocket and picked his way back across the cluttered floor to the door. Somewhere up on the second and third floors, the search for Cid was in full-swing, and the mood across Garden was somber despite their current course toward home.

"Hey, Irvy." Selphie caught up to him in the hallway. "Any luck?"

"Not really. Found his ID. You?"

She shook her head. "Nothing at all. Her whip is gone, and so is her uniform. Her bed was made...everything put away. It kind of looks like she left."

"Let's go report to Xu then," Irvine replied. "And then we can go see how the search is going in the training center."

By silent agreement, Irvine and Selphie had yet to discuss Squall or what they had seen in the parking garage. That wasn't to say it wasn't on Irvine's mind -- every time he closed his eyes, he saw Rinoa there, transformed into something half angel, half demon, sinking through concrete as if it were only a thin veil of silk. But their friends were a more immediate concern, and Irvine couldn't wrap his mind around both situations at once.

Xu was in the infirmary where Dr. Kadowaki was putting her arm in a cast, though she had been partially healed by Nida's emergency battlefield triage. When Irvine and Selphie arrived there, Xu was trying her best to shove her bright blue cast through the too tight sleeve of her SeeD jacket.

"I don't think it's going to fit," Irvine said.

"It will," she snapped. "I don't even need the damn thing..."

Dr. Kadowaki sighed. "Natural healing is best," she grumbled, then went back to working on her computer while referencing a medical chart propped up on her desk.

"We finished checking their dorms," Selphie announced while Xu continued to struggle. "There was no sign of them. Except that Irvy found Zell's ID."

"I haven't heard much from the training center yet," Xu replied. "It's slow going there. The search teams keep having to fend off the damn grats and t-rexaurs. It's probably going to take half the morning just to finish searching the area where Irvine was found." She turned to him. "You're absolutely positive you saw them there?"

Irvine rolled his eyes under the shadow of his hat. "Absolutely positive." No one ever trusted him.

Selphie looped her arm through Irvine's. "We're gonna go help out, unless you need us somewhere else."

"No. That's fine. You could take a break, if you wanted to. You've both been up all night." She let out a frustrated groan and tried pulling her now stuck arm back out of her sleeve. "This is just ridiculous!"

Irvine was trying to help her out of her jacket when Nida's voice came on over the P.A. system. "Dr. Kadowaki, please report immediately to the third floor, room number 3-132."

Xu gasped. "That must be Cid!"

She wrenched her arm so forcefully from her jacket that Irvine feared she might re-break it as Dr. Kadowaki and the infirmary's one full-time nurse yelled at one another, threw items into a wide mouthed canvas bag, and then ran for the door. Xu, Irvine, and Selphie weren't far behind, sucked along by the sense of urgency. Realistically, Irvine was aware that he probably didn't want to see what was waiting for the medical staff on the third floor, because if they were paging Dr. Kadowaki, Cid certainly wasn't going to be perfectly intact and smiling. But he got in the elevator anyway.

No one said anything on the extremely cramped rise up to the third floor, although Xu knocked her cast against the wall in a punctuated reminder that precious time was ticking by. When the doors finally opened, they were met by pure pandemonium.

Room 3-132, right down the hall from Squall's now vacant office, was overflowing with people trying to help and other people just milling about, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Headmaster. They parted readily for Dr. Kadowaki, but Xu had to use her cast like a machete to cut a path. Irvine pulled Selphie close behind, following in Xu's wake.

By the time they made it to the front of the crowd, Dr. Kadowaki had revived the headmaster and was dabbing his face with a damp cloth while the nurse inserted a large needle into the crook of his arm. Cid's face was ashen and unexpressive like marble, although he was blinking and looking around the room. A small, crusty dribble of blood was streaked across his right arm, and his clothing was dusty. Xu crouched next to the doctor and spread her jacket over Cid's still chest.

_Squall did this_, Irvine reminded himself, but he still didn't believe it.

"What's wrong with him?" Xu asked quietly.

"Spell. Something like break, probably," Irvine heard Dr. Kadowaki reply. "Squall must have froze him and then stuffed him in the closet to get him out of the way. He should start coming around now that we've got a soft drip on him, but he was out for a long time and he's dangerously low on fluids. Plus, there might be some side effects."

Xu gripped Cid's frozen fingers as well as she could in her own and whispered, "I'm so sorry, sir."

Dr. Kadowaki stood up to address the crowd again. "Come on, everyone. Back to work! We need to get the headmaster down to the infirmary, and we can't do that if you're in the way!" Slowly, the guilty-faced SeeDs began to disperse while Dr. Kadowaki and the nurse continued to stabilize the petrified headmaster. With fluids now flowing freely into his arm, some of the color began to return to his face and deep wrinkles appeared like cracks in a porcelain mask around his eyes and mouth.

"He can get better, right?" Selphie asked

"I think so. We'll see," Dr. Kadowaki replied.

From the floor, Cid muttered something that was more of a groan than a word. Kadowaki shushed him, but he did it again a few seconds later and began struggling feebly like a baby bird caught in an eggshell. Irvine couldn't watch, so he looked instead at the open maintenance locker Cid had been pulled from. It was filled with cleaning supplies: dirty brooms, stringy mops, and aluminum cans of cleaning solvents. A spot had been cleared where Cid had stood, a statue forgotten and alone among the filth and lemon-stench.

"Be..." Cid managed to get out.

"We know about Squall," Xu replied.

Cid's eyes rolled back.

"I'm sorry," Kadowaki interrupted. "But this is going to have to wait until later. He should regain the use of most of his motor functions by lunch, and then you can talk to him all you want. But right now he really needs to conserve his energy."

"You're right." Xu stood up and brushed dust off her hands, leaving streaks across her black skirt. "Is there anything we can do to help you?"

"Just stay out of the way." She shook her head. "I've never seen anyone who's been frozen solid this long."

In a school full of adolescent boys who were prone to trying out their immature abilities on one another, Dr. Kadowaki's was a significant statement. Sometimes long lasting status ailments imprinted themselves on the brain and manifested like a phantom limb even after they were gone. So while Cid's body would undoubtedly recover, his mind would need reconditioning to work through the creeping, psychosomatic paralysis.

Irvine, who still remembered most of his childhood in the care of Cid and Edea Kramer, finally allowed a swell of relief to wash over him. He'd been dwelling on the possibility that he might have to contact Matron to break the news that Cid was dead, and then deliver the even worse news that Squall had killed him. Already, he'd imagined what the funeral would be like with Matron dressed head to toe in black, her dark hair riding on the sweet Balamb breeze as all of Garden mourned their founder's passing. They'd build monuments to him, Irvine thought, and name scholarships after him so that no one would forget the man who'd been father to a generation of orphaned children.

SeeD's founding purpose had been to fight evil sorceresses. That was what Cid had intended. And, Irvine realized, Cid had held to that mission even when the sorceress power had taken hold of someone he loved.

They'd all done it before; they could do it again.

He'd once looked down upon his mother from a clock tower in Deling City and fired a bullet straight at her heart. How much different would it feel to do the same to another beloved, black-haired sorceress?

If Quistis and Zell were really dead, he thought, his hesitation might not be so great.

0 0 0

Quistis cursed and grumbled as she rolled over so that her bottom was hanging off the tiny loveseat and folded her pillow over her head to try and drown out Zell's droning across the room. Her neck already ached from propping her head up against the arm all night long. Sunrise was both a welcome end to her suffering and a frustrating signal that any chance she had to sleep was officially over. Eventually, as the sunshine intensified from a blush to an overly cheery, pounding spotlight, she tossed the tangled blanket onto the floor and went to brush her teeth.

When she came back downstairs, a little fresher but not altogether happier, Zell was still fast asleep.

She wandered into the kitchen where the cool linoleum chilled her feet and opened the refrigerator door. She peered past cartons of juice, tupperware containers full of leftovers, and bagged vegetables before a small, plastic tub of dark red cherries caught her eye. She scooped a handful off the top and closed the door.

The cherries were bittersweet and pungent with large, knobby pits and thick stems. They stained the tips of her fingers rose pink and left a thick, summery taste in her mouth.

"Mmm," she sighed.

Made curious by her fridge raid, she slipped across the kitchen to the pantry. The dry, warm space was stacked high with cans, small bottles of fragrant herbs, and bags of stock items like flour and sugar. Quistis had no idea what most of it was for and was puzzling over a tiny, green packet labeled "yeast" (wasn't that some kind of horrible bacteria?) when Seifer padded into the kitchen and interrupted her foraging.

"What are you doing?"

Startled, she dropped the yeast and spun around.

"I was hungry," she explained, embarrassed.

He crossed his arms. "This isn't the Garden cafeteria. I pay for all this, and you and Chicken Wuss out there are lucky that I let you eat with us during regular meals. I can't go providing all of your snacks, too. You'll both have to survive without me someday, you know."

_Arrogant jerk_. He walked around the counter toward her. Fresh out of bed, his hair was mussed and he was again wearing a pair of Balamb Garden sweatpants and t-shirt. She wondered if they were a sign that he regretted leaving Garden. In her own tank top and shorts, she suddenly felt exposed.

He opened the fridge, retrieved a carton of orange juice, and took a long drink directly out of the container.

"Ugh. Don't do that," Quistis said and took a step out of the pantry to stop him. "Do you drink out of all the cartons? That's so unsanitary."

"It's mine. I'll drink it how I want to."

"The rest of us might like to have some, too," Quistis pointed out. In fact, her mouth felt sandy and dry now that the idea was in her head.

He offered the carton to her, and as tempting as the crisp scent of oranges was, she shook her head no.

"Just because I drank out of it?" he asked. The fridge door swung closed on its own as he left it unattended to walk closer to her. His hand gripped the pantry door over her shoulder.

She sighed. "I don't want to drink your backwash."

He took another swig out of the carton just to irritate her. "It's not backwash. I don't have backwash. And it's not like it's _Zell's_ backwash or anything."

Because Quistis still wasn't feeling overly fond of Zell, who she could hear snoring in the living room, she didn't jump to his defense, and Seifer took her silence as an opening to continue the conversation in that direction.

"How did you sleep, by the way? It's nice and peaceful down here, and you had all that room to stretch out. That must be why you're up early, huh? Slept so well that you're completely refreshed. Is that it?" He grinned and pushed the orange juice under her nose again. A muscle in her neck jumped painfully as she turned her head away from his forced feeding, and she couldn't hide the grunt it ripped from her traitorous throat.

He delighted in her discomfort.

"A little sore? I told you not to trade him. He fits better on that thing than you do. You're practically a foot taller than he is." It was a gross exaggeration, but a dark part of her agreed. "And you really should get out of the pantry. I don't care. But Raijin will shit a fucking brick if you've been in his stuff."

He leaned over her to shut the pantry door, the orange juice sloshing in his free hand, and she recognized the musky scent drifting off his warm body -- it was the same scent that had surrounded her all night long, plaguing her with its unidentifiable familiarity while she struggled to get to sleep. He looked down at her, jaw set hard and square, as she realized that the pillow and the blanket really _had_ been from him, maybe even taken off his own bed. She'd suspected, of course, but she hadn't been sure. Curious now, she looked up at him and wondered whether he had an altruistic streak that occasionally overcame his stubborn tendency toward being cruel and power-hungry. Perhaps it was that better half (well...better eighth, really) that Rinoa had fallen in love with that summer in Deling City.

"I could do something about your neck," he said, still looming close. His breath was tangy and sweet.

"You mean break it?"

He grinned. "You're the one who likes it rough."

Quistis's hand longed to slap him and knock the self-assured smile from his lips, but she recalled how he had liked it rough as well and restrained herself, her palm hovering impulsively between them. He glanced at it. Then, to her surprise, gripped her fingers tight in his fist. He wasn't gentle about it and touched her more like a combatant than a friend or a lover, but the look on his face was pure pleasure as he surveyed her cherry stained fingertips.

"Cherries?" he said and ran the pad of his thumb across the little blushed peaks.

Her choice seemed to interest him. He squeezed her hand tighter and grinned again -- so confident, so positive that what he was doing was getting to her. And it was. He looked like he might kiss her again, leaning close with the bright scent of sunny oranges and sweet cherries drifting between them. She wanted him to do it, and started to close her eyes in case he did because she knew here with the wall at her back there was nowhere to run.

But then Raijin lumbered into the room and froze when he spotted Seifer holding Quistis near the wall, fingers tangled, faces close and smeared with guilt. His dark eyes bugged out -- literally squished out of his face like a frog's -- and he clutched his chest as if it were seizing up.

"Sorry, ya know!" It only took him two long steps to both turn around and run out of the kitchen. In the living room, he ran into one of the end tables and knocked what sounded like a lamp off onto the floor.

Zell came awake: "Hey! What the hell?"

"Go back to sleep! I'm just...uh...starting breakfast! So stay out of the kitchen, ya know?"

Seifer turned toward the commotion, which Quistis was grateful for because she could already feel hot blood rushing to her cheeks. She'd enjoyed the attention he'd been giving her, had been hoping he would try to kiss her (either so she could feel self-possessed in her rejection or so that she could lavish in the uneasy excitement he'd been generating in her since the incident on the deck), and now she was humiliated at being caught in such a weak moment.

Quistis Trepe was not weak.

Eager to prove that to him, she balled up her fist and punched him right over his heart, a place she figured she'd be likely to do little damage.

"Gah!" He gasped and stumbled away from her. "Shit! What the fuck was that?" He rubbed his chest and Quistis's knuckles stung with satisfaction.

"You know what it's for."

He looked perplexed enough that she was forced to consider the possibility that maybe he didn't, but that was hardly her problem. It if mattered to him, he'd figure it out on his own.

A comically sleep ruffled Zell wandered into the kitchen then, one half of the spike of hair he kept at the front of his head bent at a forty five degree angle to the rest of it and red pillow marks weaving in between the spider web branches of the tattoo on the side of his face. "What's up?" he asked. "I thought I heard something. Is breakfast okay?"

He was genuinely alarmed, but neither Seifer nor Quistis responded to him; and, angry with both of them, Quistis stomped out of the kitchen. Maybe now that Zell was awake, she'd be able to catch a few minutes of sleep on the couch before breakfast. The cherries were holding off her hunger pains for now, so she tossed Zell's blankets off the couch and curled up with her own -- _no_, she remembered with a groan, _Seifer's._

Eyes knit closed, she tried to will herself to sleep, but only ended up contemplating the irritating man more fiercely. Although he'd been her student and had lived with her since the orphanage, she hadn't ever really gotten to know him. Even from what she recalled of their childhood, they'd kept their distance from one another. And they'd never had a real conversation outside of Garden business. She'd never felt anything stronger than a mild curiosity and a sort of professional disappointment before when she thought about him.

But Rinoa had been in love with him.

_Rinoa_, of all people -- smiles, rainbows, and optimism. She'd never been able to reconcile them as a couple in her head, nor could she frankly understand what Rinoa had thought Seifer could offer her as a significant other. Now, she was growing to see the odd charisma Rinoa had mentioned and the intensity that made him difficult to ignore -- they had the same taste in men, after all.

But something was wrong with him. She was sure about that. He took far too much pleasure in destroying others to be normal or well adjusted, even for a mercenary. But why should someone so blatantly caustic and mean be even the slightest bit charming? Maybe charm wasn't the right word. Something about the way he looked at her made her feel confident. And she had such a weakness for powerful men. Like Squall had been, Seifer was a fountain of potential. She wondered what he could be if he ever put his mind to it.

Raijin eventually came back downstairs and started breakfast. Dr. Shipey was tagging along with him this time. He was sleeping on the floor in Raijin's room on an air mattress so that he would be guarded even as he slept. It was overkill, but Quistis was glad that someone else was taking their mission seriously.

A delightful, spicy aroma eventually drew her out from under her blanket again, and she joined Raijin, Dr. Shipey, and Zell in the kitchen. They had the TV on again and were watching a morning news program while Raijin cooked.

"What are we having?" Quistis asked, her mouth watering.

The look he gave her was uneasy, but he replied, "Cinnamon and banana pancakes." He was mixing the batter and warming a frying pan that was greasy with olive oil and a melting pad of butter. Sensing that she was making him nervous, Quistis sat down to watch the news with Zell until breakfast was done.

The morning anchorwoman was disproportionately perky for the hour and the grim news she was delivering.

"There have been unconfirmed reports from fisherman that a Galbadian fleet has been operating in the waters between Dollet and Balamb north of Horizon Bridge for the last week and that the fleet may now be heading toward Dollet. Phone calls to the Dollet Dukedom regarding the validity of these claims have not been returned as of this morning, but at least one government employee calls them 'deeply troubling.' So far in the war between Galbadia, Esthar, and Balamb Garden, there have been no major battles or skirmishes. This is expected to change in the next few weeks as Balamb Garden is currently operating within the area."

The broadcast cut to a map with a blinking Balamb Garden symbol just north of Galbadia Garden.

Fujin and Seifer trailed into the kitchen as they cut back to the anchor and as Raijin started frying their pancakes.

The report continued. "The Dollet Dukedom has revealed that they have made an official request for protection from Balamb Garden, which has traditionally defended the town. However, officials say their request has not yet been reviewed by Garden and they are expecting to receive confirmation later this morning."

"That's strange..." Quistis murmured.

"Not really," Seifer replied and glared at her from across the kitchen where he was helping Raijin cut up some sort of fruit. "Krier's gotta know that Esthar would crush Galbadia in a war. So he's not going to actually attack them unless he has to. He's not stupid. This is just an excuse, and he probably doesn't want it to turn into a real war."

She rolled her eyes at him. "No. Not _that_. Though I agree with you, by the way, about Krier's motives...strange as it seems to say. What I meant was that it's strange the Dollet Dukedom has been able to get in contact with Balamb Garden."

"So? It's strange that someone, somewhere, picked up a phone?" He sliced through a bit of fruit with more force than was necessary.

"No. It's just strange that they got through. When we were in Esthar, Laguna told us that they'd been trying to get in contact with Garden for hours and couldn't get through. No one has been able to communicate with them since Trabia."

"Ah, yeah! So, what does it mean now that communication is open?" Zell asked. "That Rinoa's not on board anymore?"

Quistis shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well, I _do_ know that we're going to want to get the hell out of here before those Galbadian ships get here," Seifer said. "Remember the last time they invaded Dollet? Giant, mechanical spiders and all? They're after the professor, so we should probably get him as far away from the fucking naval armada headed this way as possible."

"That's an unconfirmed report," Quistis replied.

"You want to wait until you can see them in the harbor yourself?"

They both knew she was only belaboring the point because he'd been the one to make it.

Raijin's cinnamon and banana pancakes were warm and flavorful. Quistis ate three of them, each with different syrup dribbled across the top. On the side, she munched on a helping of fruit she couldn't identify that was tossed in a crisp, sweet glaze. While Seifer drank milk again, everyone else had a glass of apple juice to wash their meal down.

Quistis waited until they were done so that it wouldn't seem like she was caving to Seifer's suggestion before she finally said, "We probably should try to get out of town by nightfall. Let's stock up while we're here, get some rest, and figure out where we're going next."

"I'm not eating turkey sandwiches again!" Zell immediately protested. "I can't go back, Quisty. Not after _this_! We gotta get some decent grub this time around."

She was about to respond with a dour reminder that they needed to conserve their resources when Seifer surprised her by saying, "I agree. Raijin should be in charge of food from this point out, seeing as Quistis would rather we all starve and save her money. You should take Zell with you, Raij, since he's so damn hard to please. I'll pay you back."

It was these brief glimpses of good, like a sunburst on a cloudy day, that made her wonder what exactly was behind his prickly exterior and beyond his handsome but hard face.

0 0 0

"Any luck in the training center?" Irvine asked with a yawn. He'd just woke up from a well deserved nap and was walking with Xu and Selphie toward the infirmary where the healing headmaster, finally well enough to speak, had requested them.

"None," Xu replied. "It's going faster with all of Garden's SeeDs working a rotating shift. And I think we've got almost our whole population of grats and t-rexaurs wiped out now. But there's no sign of either Quistis or Zell. Last I heard they'd swept over seventy five percent of the area."

During his nap, Irvine had dreamt that they'd found his friends alive and well. He'd woke up still half believing that Zell was the one knocking on his door, but when he'd found the sour-faced Xu, who had never been to his dorm room prior to that moment, all of his hopes were dashed.

"It doesn't mean we should give up," Selphie said.

"We're not," Xu insisted.

When they arrived at the infirmary, Dr. Kadowaki came out of one of the curtained patient rooms to greet them, a clipboard in one hand a chewed pen in the other. Irvine noticed Cid's name scrawled at the top of her chart.

"How's he doing?" Xu asked.

"Better than I'd expected," Dr. Kadowaki replied. "The spell is still wearing off, and it's going at a steady rate now that we've gotten a full round of soft in him. For the moment, he's stiff and tired, but seems well. We're going to be keeping him a few days for observation."

"We heard he wanted to see us," Selphie said.

"Yes. He asked for you as soon as his jaw loosened. You can go right on in. I'm done for now."

Cid was sitting up in bed, wearing a hospital smock exactly like the one Irvine had turned in the night before. It felt strange now to be on the other side, standing beside the bed rather than lying in it. His features were pale, and a persistent, chalky residue was peeling from the backs of his hands and arms, but he looked relieved when they walked through the door.

"Headmaster." Xu rushed to his side. "How are you?"

"Fine, Xu," he said, his voice gravely, and patted her hand. "Just fine."

"Do you know what's happened?" she asked.

"I think so. Squall -- I was talking to him in his office, telling him that I was going to order Garden back to Balamb. And he cast some spell on me. That's the last thing I remember."

"I confronted him about it when I couldn't find you," Xu explained. "He attacked me, broke my arm, and then fled."

"We followed him down to the parking garage after he ran," Irvine continued."But he...got away." No point in trying to tell the headmaster exactly what had happened when even Irvine himself wasn't entirely sure.

"We're still looking for Quistis and Zell. They've disappeared, too," Selphie said.

Cid's eyes pinched closed. "I know. That's why I had the doctor page you." He fiddled with the IV tubing running from his arm down off the bed, twisting it between his fingers. "After the Galbadian attack, Squall gave me a report that..._implicated_ Quistis and Zell. He said they were the ones who let Seifer and his posse in, and they came up to the bridge and attempted to kill Rinoa."

"Quistis and Zell wouldn't do that..." Selphie objected.

But at the same time, Irvine reviewed the events of the Galbadian attack in his mind and recalled that there had been a third voice with Quistis and Zell in the training center -- another man's voice. And when he'd followed them into the bushes, he'd met up with Seifer Almasy. That small bit of evidence made his blood run cold.

"Isn't that what Squall said to you two?" Xu asked. "That he thought you were trying to kill Rinoa?"

"He's paranoid," Cid said, and then choked on a dusty, wheezing cough.

"Well, not exactly. You see, sir...Rinoa isn't quite herself anymore."

Cid regained his breath. "Not herself? So, she's become a...?"

"Yes."

Cid swore, thought this new information through for a moment, then suggested, "You should check the recent activity on their SeeD accounts. If Squall has done something to them, there shouldn't be any transactions." They had been operating under the assumption that their friends were merely missing and so hadn't thought to check for that kind of foul play. Xu promised she would run the report and deliver the results to the headmaster by dinner before he was overtaken by another fit of coughing and the doctor came in to shoo them away.

Irvine and Selphie followed Xu up to the bridge.

"There's a message for you," Nida announced. "From the Dollet Dukedom. They've received reports that Galbadian ships are headed toward their port -- probably the same ones that attacked us. And they're requesting our assistance to drive them away. It's on the way back to Balamb."

Xu sighed. "Give me a second. I've got to do this first." She punched her ID number into one of the consoles, then glared at Irvine when he tried to look over her shoulder at the screen. "These are confidential records," she reminded him.

Ever since Squall had jumped ship, Xu had taken over duties as the head of Balamb Garden. Irvine was content to let her take the burden since she seemed more than happy to carry the extra weight, but he was irritated with the superior tone she was affecting at the moment. They were his friends, too. And he had just as much clearance to look at their records as she did. But he backed off anyway, years of military training overpowering any individual outrage he felt at the slight.

"We'll assume since we found it in his room that Zell's ID hasn't been used," she said. "As for Quistis's..." She punched in a number, navigated through a touch sensitive menu, and then paused -- her brow tense and wrinkled as her eyes scanned the readout.

"What is it?" Selphie asked.

"It's...nothing," Xu replied. "Nothing. Just like I suspected."

It hadn't looked like nothing, but Xu cleared the screen and turned to Nida before Irvine could open his mouth to say so.

"About Dollet," she said. "Tell them no. We'll continue past and go back to Balamb. I suspect that the Galbadians already have a hold on the town, whether their ships are there yet or not."

0 0 0

Rinoa and Squall sat clinging to the empty frame of a car on a freight train headed toward Dollet. They were closer than he'd thought at the beach, only half a day's journey from the harbor city and a good distance from where Garden had been when they left. It was comfortable cushion, albeit one he didn't entirely understand. How had they gotten so far from Garden? They couldn't have just jumped into the sea from the Quad and washed up hundreds of miles down the coast. But what he did remember between the Garden parking lot and the Galbadian beach -- a beautiful, weightless sense of serenity -- didn't make much sense either. Right now, he was just grateful that they had a small advantage, and he meant to keep it.

Under their feet, train tracks and wildflowers whipped by. The wind was blowing through Rinoa's hair and making her eyes squinty so that she looked up at him like a ruffled puppy, sleepy and content.

"How long?" she asked.

"A few more hours, I think," Squall replied and held her close as the train started up a hill. "We'll be in Dollet by dinner time. Then we can catch a train to Timber, and from there a boat to Centra."

She frowned.

"What?"

"It's just so _slow_," she said and sighed.

"We'll be far ahead of Garden, I think. They'll have to go all the way around Galbadia to get there. Even at full speed, we'll beat them there if we don't run into too many delays."

Rinoa still had Forest Owl connections in Timber; he didn't doubt that they'd be able to find someone there who'd happily put them on the fast track to Centra. In Dollet, before anyone at Garden thought to deactivate his ID, he intended to withdraw enough gil to keep them comfortable -- more so, at least, than the chilly, open-air method of transportation they were using right now. Squall's rear end had gone numb an hour ago from lack of blood flow as the unforgiving iron scaffolding that made up their empty car pinched the major arteries running to his legs.

Being away from the stifling atmosphere of Garden felt good. He wasn't watching over his shoulder or having to rely upon people that he wasn't sure he could trust. He instinctively shrank from trusting others with anything important (_really_ important -- not just duties and missions, but his heart and his life). Two years ago, Rinoa had earned his trust. But Garden as a whole had yet to do so as it persisted on past Ultimecia's defeat with a hardly improved, secretly funded bureaucracy; mercenary for hire daily operations that occasionally set SeeDs against one another; and no real direction from Headmaster Cid, who was trying every day to step further out of the lime light rather than lead the organization he had created. It all created a very bitter taste in Squall's mouth, and though he didn't believe in things like good and evil, he couldn't help thinking that things could still be made better.

But Garden wasn't his problem anymore. He'd washed his hands of it.

Now his main concern was getting something to eat since his stomach was beginning to rumble. Rinoa hadn't complained (she'd been eating only the smallest morsels lately) but he was already looking forward to a good meal in Dollet.

Rinoa shifted beside him, and pulled from some pocket she must have had on the inside lining of her jacket an unlabeled, clear plastic bag of jerky.

"Here." She folded it into his open hand.

He stared at her. "Where did you get this?"

"I brought it with me. Just in case."

He wished he remembered more of their flight from Garden, but it was all concealed by the dream he'd had. Distantly, he wondered what else she had stowed away in her pockets.

The jerky was salty and chewy. It kept his mouth busy and satisfied his growling stomach. He was still munching on a strip when the Dollet communication tower glinted in the mid-day sun between the mountain peaks.

"I think this is our stop," Squall announced.

Getting off the train was significantly easier than getting on had been. They rolled to a stop and picked twigs out of each other's hair before starting off again on foot.

The communication tower in Dollet was open, holding its concave ear to the sky. It hadn't closed since the Galbadians repaired it during their occupation. Now this tower was one of a network of twenty spread around the world that relayed signals from satellites, radios, and television broadcasts. It was a smaller world than the one Squall had known growing up -- one more interconnected and tightly drawn than had ever existed before. He looked up at the tower as they walked and imagined the myriad of conversations filtering through the dish at that very moment. Maybe there were even a few to and from Garden, conversations about him.

An hour later, they came over a rise just outside of town and Squall spotted the last thing he had expected: the Ragnarok. He grabbed Rinoa and threw her to the ground as he ducked, knocking a breathy grunt out of her. _I should have known Laguna would side with them_, he thought. Xu had probably called him the moment they escaped from Garden and requested the ship back to use in the search. Over the top of the hill, he could see the sun shining of the Ragnarok's red hull. Its claws were deeply embedded in the earth, head down, wing tips withdrawn, parked and dormant -- a position that struck Squall as strange.

He sat up to get a better look.

No one was coming or going from the ship. It was quiet, apparently unmanned and abandoned. _They must have gone directly into Dollet_, he thought. _And they're waiting for us there._ He pulled Rinoa to her feet and cautiously began to approach the familiar, now ominous, ship as if it were a real red dragon, ready to spring to life at any moment and blow its toxic breath over them.

But as they got closer, he suddenly realized that it wasn't the Ragnarok, but a smaller, newer model with fewer scratches and little battle wear. He circled around to the side and spotted its name painted across one flank in blocky, Estharan letters: Balder. Even as Squall reached out and touched the cool, metal side of the ship, no one stirred.

"Can we get inside?" Rinoa asked.

"I could try one of Laguna's access codes," Squall replied. It had been one of Laguna's early attempts to earn Squall's trust, a promise that he could come visit Esthar anytime he liked complete with a set of keys to get in. Squall had merely scribbled down the codes and added them to his memory, never intending to actually use one of them, though now seemed as good of a time as any to see how honest Laguna had really been with his offer.

He pried open the access panel with his gunblade until he worked the unfriendly mechanical hinges into a suitable position. He tried the first code that came to mind: Laguna's birthday. The Esthar national flag blinked across the screen once before he was denied access with a small red light. He tried another code, one he thought might be Raine's birthday, to the same effect.

"Try again," Rinoa insisted.

"It probably won't work," he replied, but did as she asked. The third code, the last one he had, made his stomach turn. It was his name, _Squall_, spelled out via a simple substitution cipher -- the sort of obvious attempt at encryption that little girls writing in diaries and Laguna Loire both favored. The ship processed the code for a second, then flashed "Welcome Laguna Loire" across the screen. The red light blinked green and the door unsealed.

Rinoa jogged up the ramp into the ship.

"This is perfect!" she yelled from inside. "How long will it take to get to Centra in this?"

Squall followed her in and closed the door behind him.

"Not long." He found her already taking a seat up on the bridge, her face flushed with excitement.

"Can you fly it?" she asked.

He never had before, but if Selphie could figure out the controls, he was confident that he could, too.

"You might want to buckle your seat belt," he advised and took the pilot's seat. "Just in case."

0 0 0

The sun was setting by the time Raijin and Zell were satisfied that the food rations they had picked out would keep the entire team eating hearty meals for the duration of their mission. Quistis stood in the kitchen waiting for them to finish juggling large paper bags between their arms so that they could leave. Fujin was trying to help, loudly offering to take a bag stuffed with greens from Raijin; but Seifer and Dr. Shipey stood by and watched apathetically as they struggled.

"We really need to get going," she reminded them. She had high hopes that on their ship the noise from the engines would finally allow her to get some sleep and was eager to get into the air. Exhausted, she didn't even bother to hold the door for Zell on the way out.

Their stumbling procession through town, loaded to the brim with groceries and weapons, wasn't exactly inconspicuous. But keeping a low profile with someone as loud as Fujin, infamous as Seifer, identifiable as Zell, and large as Raijin wasn't exactly easy anyway. On the bright side, with the latest news bringing the war closer to Dollet, they weren't the only ones gearing up to leave the harbor city. The train station was clogged with people claiming that they were going to visit family down the coast and the one car rental company at the edge of town had a sign out front that proclaimed they were out of vehicles. So, no one took particular notice of their motley crew.

"Where are we going from here?" Zell asked.

"Depends on where the Galbadians aren't," Quistis replied. "Dr. Shipey says there are some good ruins along the southern coast of Centra in the desert. Plus there are a few in Trabia that we might be able to get to."

"Desert or tundra," Seifer grumbled. "Nice choices."

"They're good ruins because they're in out of the way places," Dr. Shipey said. "Ruins tend to get bulldozed in more desirable locations."

"Or crushed by monsters crashing down from the sky," Zell pointed out.

"Or that."

"I vote desert," Seifer said. "I hate the cold."

"Me too," Zell agreed.

"TRABIA!" Fujin voted.

"Yeah. I don't do so well in the heat, ya know?" Raijin added.

Since when had this been a democracy? Quistis ignored them and kept walking. She'd make the decision in the air and allow for no more argument on the matter. Even her most willful classes of teenagers had been easier to work with than the group she was suffering through now. They were all noise, frustration, and confusion. They weren't at all the sort of people she usually associated with. An eagerness had infected her to get on with their mission and get it over with so that she could escape them.

Up the hill outside Dollet, Quistis broke into a jog so that she could get the door open for Raijin and Zell who were overloaded and tiring quickly of walking so heavily burdened. But as she passed the railroad tracks, she noticed the empty gash the landing gear had left in the soil and stopped to stare at the bleak, vacant grass.

It took her a few moments to fully comprehend that somehow their transportation had left without them -- _again._

_I'm cursed. What the hell did I do in another life to deserve this?_

"Whoa! Watch out! Coming through!" Zell said as he bumped into her and then barreled past, unable to see over the bags in his arms.

Seifer crossed his arms and looked judgmental. "Where's our ship?" he asked.

"Huh?" Zell spotted them in his peripheral vision, then swung around and lost them again. "What did you say?"

"GONE!" Fujin barked.

"It can't be gone. It was locked." Zell was spinning around, trying to see something.

Dr. Shipey meekly wedged himself in between Quistis and Seifer and plaintively asked, "We can't stay in Dollet, can we? With the Galbadians coming...looking for _me_."

"Damn it," Seifer groaned. Then he looked over Dr. Shipey's head at Quistis and said, "I think the Chicken Wuss is a jinx. We should ditch him and get out of here on the next train."

"Hey!"

Quistis looked up at the sky, hoping either their ship would be hanging there or a lightning bolt would come crashing down, straight from the hand of God, and kill her instantly. She was going to do something incredibly irrational if she had to spend another night in that house. Turning around to look back down on the city, she sighed. The Galbadians were on their way, the trains would likely be packed, and their ship had flown off without them: it was easy to believe that the world was ending.


	17. Battle for Dollet

Chapter 16: Battle for Dollet

The last train leaving Dollet for the night was full, and there wasn't an available seat on another one until nine in the evening the next day. An old woman in a floral print shirt who was clutching an oversized purse in one hand and a smoldering cigarette in the other gave them a nasty glare when Quistis brought out her SeeD ID and tried to convince the ticket agent that they were on urgent business. Unimpressed, he refused to bump anyone and waited patiently for them to leave.

Outside in the dark, Seifer thought Quistis looked like she was either going to curse or cry. Surprisingly, she did neither.

"Zell, Raijin: you might as well take all that back to the house," she said. "And take Dr. Shipey with you -- keep him out of sight. The rest of us will try to find some other way out of town."

Zell shuffled a grocery bag in salute before starting off down the road.

Once they were gone, Fujin suggested, "CAR?"

They walked to the rental shop where the clerk was turning off the lights and getting ready to go home for the night. He spotted them before they got to the door and came out through the open garage. "We're out. There's a sign." He pointed to it before picking it up to take it inside.

They followed him in. "We know you're out. We were just curious when you might be getting one back," Quistis explained.

Obviously inconvenienced by their just-before-closing-time visit, he circled around the counter and made a big deal out of powering on his computer again -- complete with eye rolling and irritated finger tapping against the top of his particle board desk. Seifer scoffed: like this guy was so important. Like people would die if he missed watching some evening sitcom over a bowl of reheated ravioli. As much as Seifer would have liked to provide him with some perspective on the matter, Quistis was unperturbed, smiling with serene patience.

"Okay." The clerk typed something. "It looks like we'll be getting back two cars in the morning. But they'll have to be checked for damage and cleaned before we can rent them out again. No promises on how long that'll take...guy's a part-timer who does it...but I'd say we might have something for you if you came around at about four in the afternoon. Where're you headed? We charge by the mile."

"In Deling City they charge a flat rental fee," Quistis replied. "And in Balamb. And Timber. And Esthar..."

Quistis was a hardcore penny pincher. Seifer, on the other hand, had never seen the point in having money and not spending it. He'd never figured that he would live long enough to warrant saving anything.

"Can't we just reserve the next car to come in?" he asked.

The clerk shook his head. "First come first served."

When they left, he locked the door behind them and firmly plastered a closed sign to the door.

"Doesn't sound very promising," Quistis said.

"You should have pushed him around a little," Seifer replied. "You're a SeeD. That's what you do."

"SeeDs aren't professional bullies."

"They're not?"

Sometimes, he hated the sense of superiority SeeDs had, as if possessing an institutional license to kill made them better than those who did the work for the love of it. That was part of why he'd been secretive about his dream to become a sorceress's knight. There was no official paperwork to sign or tests to take; it was the sort of thing a person was just born to do. Out of everyone at Garden, he thought only Squall would have understood.

"_I'm_ not a bully," Quistis clarified.

At a loss for what to do, they meandered through the dark streets. For once, Seifer was patient. Aside from the rain and the lack of entertainment, he'd gotten comfortable in Dollet and wasn't eager to move onto to either of the places Quistis had mentioned. Plus, he preferred having her on his turf. So long as she was under his roof, she was dependent upon him for small conveniences, and he enjoyed possessing the power to give or deny her comforts. The pleasure didn't come from making her miserable -- although he was certainly amused by watching her neat and tidy public persona break down in a fit of passion -- but more from the way she was forced to constantly acknowledge him.

Tonight, he was fond of her because she didn't look like an instructor. She didn't have her hair up in the perfect little fishtail she wore sometimes in lieu of a braid or ponytail. Instead her hair was loose, just washed and air dried so that it was a little out of sorts, wavy in spots, and tangled by the wind. And she wasn't in her uniform like she had been for so much of the mission in what was a constant reminder to him of her position and success. He almost forgot when she was like this that she was once his superior.

Fujin pointed to the pub up the road and said, "HIDE?"

"Maybe..." Quistis crossed her arms. "If we don't have any other choice, I guess we could try hiding Dr. Shipey in the catacombs. But if Krier has Shipey's list, he'll have men searching them. We wouldn't be safe down there for long."

"Not to mention freezing to death in the dark as undead monsters eat our faces off," Seifer grumbled. The whole situation with the pub owner still irritated him. She'd been in the pub the first day he saw her, was there when Zell went to get her, and was comfortable enough to ask the staff for favors. Either she was a closet alcoholic (which he doubted) or there was something serious between her and the middle-aged owner.

Now that he thought about it, she'd always been close to Cid, too.

The thought made his stomach turn.

They passed the pub and walked down onto the beach. The sea was calm, the sky clear. Quistis walked right up to the water.

"I wonder if we could get in contact with anyone at Garden. The Dollet Dukedom did. That could mean Squall and Rinoa don't have control of their communications anymore. And they're in the area already. I'm sure if I could talk to Xu, she'd send someone to come get us."

Seifer wasn't surprised she wanted to go back to Garden, just disappointed.

"Do you know anyone who has a radio?" she asked. "With that, we could contact the bridge directly."

"You forget what happened last time you were there?"

"It will be different this time."

Fujin looked between them as if she were following a tennis match.

"Why can't we just buy the train tickets and get it over with?" Seifer asked.

"Because the first thing Galbadians do when they enter a hostile town is shut down train service. After you...I mean, in Timber...we barely made it out before they stopped the trains."

"Okay," he conceded. "Say I know someone who has a radio...what are you going to say? The Dollet Dukedom has already sent out an invitation."

She shrugged. "I'll make sure they take the mission, or at least get Dr. Shipey out before the fighting becomes too intense. I'm sure they'll be here anyway -- Dollet pays extremely well. Cid always says yes." As the idea grew on her, she started talking louder until she was nearly shouting with relief. "Where's the radio?"

"It'll have to wait until morning."

"Why?"

"LATE."

"I'll take you tomorrow," he said, though he was intensely bothered by the idea.

When they arrived back home, Seifer took the first opportunity that presented itself to pick a fight with Zell. It was over something frivolous but culminated in a satisfying fist fight that drove Dr. Shipey up the stairs into the safety of Raijin's bedroom and left blood spatter across the white carpet. Usually he didn't push Zell so far, but he felt like he needed to see and _feel_ the weight of his words and the impact of his existence. He licked a slightly swollen cut at the side of his mouth during dinner and watched Quistis across the table, wondering if she could see it. She didn't look up at him until he nudged her with his toes, and then she only glanced up and turned away.

He didn't understand how she could ignore him so easily now when that morning he'd had her full and undivided attention.

At least, he'd had her attention until Raijin walked in on them. Then she'd punched him, and he _still_ hadn't figured out why. Rinoa had never hit him. For that matter, she'd never tried to kill him either. Rinoa had been easy to be around. She was honest and sensitive, wide-eyed and easily impressed. Quistis was difficult and secretive. He'd only caught brief glimpses, like the shadow of a deer through the woods, of the part of her that had made him kiss her. But he was a hunter by nature. Given time and opportunity, he thought he could lure her out into the open. And then...then he wasn't sure what he intended to do.

He went to sleep that night without offering her the courtesy of his bed. _Let her miss me_, he thought. He was confident that she would.

0 0 0

Krier's nausea rode along the waves that were rolling under and around the ship. He'd never liked boats. He was a man of the army, of the earth -- boots, trucks, guns, and dirt. The sea made him uneasy, so he avoided looking off the starboard side where nothing but open water sloshed and gurgled all the way to Balamb. Instead he stoodwith his hands on the port side railing, watching the countryside go by, counting every light that bobbed past.

"It's a beautiful night for sailing." Admiral Zahn came up beside him. "Stars are bright, winds are low, and the sea is calm. We'll make good time to Dollet."

"Good."

Admiral Zahn was quiet for a moment, then casually offered, "We have some motion sickness medications available if--"

"I'm fine. Thank you."

If this had been any other mission, Krier would not be on a boat headed for Dollet -- a town outside of his purview. But he was almost certain that Bob Shipey was there, being held by a group of SeeDs until Garden could arrive. He'd already gotten word that Garden had changed course and was now heading back toward the harbor city to rendezvous with them. The situation was urgent now, but he could only impress upon his men that securing Dollet was imperative to Galbadian national security; he couldn't tell them the truth. Would they believe him even if he did?

"What's Balamb Garden's current ETA?" Krier asked.

"They're two hours behind us," Zahn replied. "And we may gain time on them overnight. We've got better seas than they do."

"When we arrive in port, your men have an hour and a half to secure the city. It's a small town, that shouldn't be difficult. But there's a man there who has information absolutely essential to the war effort. You understand? We need to get him out before Garden arrives. I've got a photograph of him that I want you to show to your men. He may be in the company of several SeeDs." Krier gripped the rail tighter as the boat rocked and tried to hold onto his dignity. "Our first priority is to secure this man. Dollet itself is secondary."

Admiral Zahn nodded and swept a hand through his sea-damp hair. "I have one question, sir."

"What's that?"

"Our previous target...Rinoa Heartilly." Zahn flinched when he said her name. He was afraid of the retired General Caraway who still had no idea of the military's interest in his daughter. "If we have the opportunity, should we attempt to capture her again?"

"Not capture, Admiral," Krier reminded him. "And yes, if the opportunity presents itself, you and all of your men are under orders to _kill_ Miss Heartilly on sight, by any means possible."

"May I speak freely, sir?"

"No, Admiral. You may not." Krier glanced at him sharply.

Sometimes on the stage of world politics, a little blood had to be spilled for the greater good. All world leaders knew that. And Krier was not about to let Galbadia fall to another sorceress.

0 0 0

"Hell. What can you two possibly need now?" Captain Colburn said before he even got his front door open all the way. Quistis and Seifer stood on his step, the morning sun at their backs, and amicable smiles plastered across their faces.

"Just one small favor to ask," Quistis said. "Promise."

"You know, I think I've learned never to do a favor for a SeeD. They keep coming back for more. You give one a glass of milk, and he'll ask for your whole damn cow."

Seifer lost the smile Quistis had forced him to practice. "You didn't actually _give_ us anything," he pointed out. "We rented the _Black Mage_ from you for about three times what it was worth. And you didn't even help us get into the catacombs."

Caught, Captain Colburn had no retort. Instead, he let out a little sigh of resignation and asked, "So, what do you need?"

"Your radio," Quistis replied.

"I use that for getting weather reports and for communicating with other boats while I'm at sea. You can't have that."

"Not have it," Seifer clarified. "Just use it."

The captain hesitated. He treated his ship with more courtesy and affection than any of his employees. And the only thing he adored more than his ship was making a profit, which wasn't a good angle for them to work considering Quistis was flat broke and Seifer wasn't willing to put forward his own money so that Quistis and Zell could sail off into the sunrise.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Captain," Quistis said. "Balamb Garden is en route to Dollet right now. And so are the Galbadians. We have a man with us who has information essential to the war effort, and we need to get him safely aboard Garden before the fleet arrives. We need your radio to signal them so that they will know where to pick him up."

It wasn't entirely honest, but it was close.

The captain wasn't swayed. "You two seem awfully out of touch for being such important parts of this war. Balamb Garden said no to our request for help. The Dukedom said so this morning."

Seifer felt absurdly relieved, but Quistis grew harder.

"They_will_ come and they _will_ fight off the Galbadians if we are able to contact them." She sounded so sure with such obvious faith in the institution that raised her. Seifer had never felt that way. "It's not a complicated request, Captain. You don't even have to do anything. Just let us use your radio for a few minutes."

He considered this for a moment, then said, "You can convince them to save Dollet?"

She was solid. "Yes."

"Okay," he relented. "But this is the last favor I'm doing for you two. And it's only because I hate the Galbadians. You understand?"

"Perfectly."

"Good. I'll be one second."

Captain Colburn closed the door, leaving Seifer alone with Quistis, whose face was impassive and impossible to read. Was she really that confident Garden would respond to her call? He wasn't. And he was really only taking her to the radio because he thought she might come to see reason and accept the team she had if Garden left her behind again. He was sure they didn't need Cid, the cowboy, or the messenger girl to help them. Why wasn't she?

"What's he doing?" she asked, leaning over so that she could peek through one of the windows.

"Getting the keys, I'd guess."

"Radios have keys?"

_Shit, she can be dumb sometimes_. "No. But ships do."

"_Oh_. Of course."

When he finally emerged with the keys, Captain Colburn led them to the familiar shape of the _Black Mage_ sitting in the harbor. With shrimp season so near, she was rigged and ready to go, held back only news of the war and a temporary ban on civilian boats going more than ten miles from shore so long as the Galbadian navy was active in the area. Seifer disliked shrimp season more than anything else he'd ever fished because they were small, whiskery, not worth as much per pound as crab, and were caught in nets rather than pots. He looked at the shrimp nets in distain as they walked by them, remembering the number of times he'd nearly lost a finger in them, and was glad for a moment that Hyne had chosen this particular season to return.

"It's right in here." Captain Colburn tossed his keys down next to the radio and stepped back. "All yours."

"Could you give us some privacy please?" Quistis asked.

_Not so confident after all_. It gave Seifer hope.

"Radio is on open frequencies," the captain replied. "If you've got private things to say, you don't want to do it over the radio."

"Maybe it's not something she wants to say over the radio," Seifer said, and enjoyed the way she blushed and stumbled to correct what he had wrongly implied. Captain Colburn shook his head and stepped outside anyway. Men who worked on ships knew when to leave one another alone -- Seifer liked that about them.

She frowned and got to work on the radio, twisting the dials to find the secret wavelength that would patch her through to Balamb Garden's bridge. "I don't have anything to say to you," she announced.

"Sure you don't."

They hadn't spoken much since the day before, and he was itching to push her into an argument, discussion, or any kind of interaction.

"You're not going to get to me. Not today."

"Why's that?" He leaned over her, pretending to look at the radio, and made sure she felt how close he was and how far he was invading her personal space. That always made her uneasy.

"Because today I'm going home," she replied.

It was over then, whatever it had been.

Seifer was surprised at the pang of sadness that hit him.

0 0 0

Irvine was watching over the bridge while Nida was off duty and Xu was visiting with Headmaster Cid in the infirmary. Alone, he had nothing to do other than watch birds circle and scenery go by. So he had his hat sitting on the floor and was flicking triple triad cards into it. The game was all his deck was good for since he'd never had the patience to learn the more difficult rules like plus and same. Any good cards he'd brought from Galbadia had been lost to Squall and Quistis long ago -- both fierce players. He turned a grat card between his fingers before letting it fly.

That morning at breakfast, Selphie had promised him she would come up to the bridge and keep him company once she was done "running errands." With Selphie and all the commitments she took on, Irvine knew he might not see her all day and figured she was off somewhere arranging a birthday party for some neglected faculty member.

LosingSquall, Rinoa, Quistis, and Zell had drawn them closer to one another, but not how Irvine would have liked. Heartbreak had brought Selphie to his room the night before rather than romance, and he'd held her as she slept, thankful himself for her warmth and comfort. If they were anywhere near a town, Irvine thought he would like to go out and get a drink or two and let go of the oppressive sense of responsibility settling over him. He felt uncomfortably like people were looking to him now to replace Squall.

Sighing, he walked across the bridge to empty his hat which was overflowing with cards.

He was settling in for another round when a soft voice from nowhere said, "Come in, Balamb Garden."

Spooked, Irvine stopped moving, curious if the sound had been produced by the leather creaking in his coat, a loose bolt in the floor, or some combination thereof.

"Balamb Garden?" the voice whispered again.

First, he checked the P.A., but it was quiet and inactive. Unaccustomed to the bridge controls, he searched for the source of the signal until he located a small speaker with a red light shining next to it. A radio.

"Please come in, Balamb Garden."

He twisted a knob halfway through her plea so that the volume went up. In a single, startling second, he recognized the voice.

"Quistis?" He fumbled for a button that would let him reply, repeating her name over and over again until she responded.

"Irvine!"

"Quistis!"

"Thank God..."

His finger trembled as he held the button down. "Quistis, where are you? Are you okay? We've been searching for you everywhere! Is Zell with you? Is he okay, too? I'll come get you. Just tell me where you are." Belatedly, he recalled that he had to stop sending in order to receive and let off the button.

"--re fine. Both of us."

Intense relief hit him hard enough to blur his vision. "Where are you?"

"Dollet."

"What?_Dollet?_"

Across the radio, he heard what might have been static or a sigh. "It's a long story. But we need you to pick us up."

"Not a problem. We're only a couple hours outside Dollet."

"Good. We're on a boat in the harbor."

"Is Zell with you?"

"No. Not right now," she replied, though in the background, he thought he heard a man's voice.

"We thought you were dead." Now that he knew they weren't, he could finally say it.

Calm and collected, Quistis managed to stay on track. "I'll tell you the whole story once we're on board. There's just one thing...it's about Squall."

"We know," Irvine replied. "It shouldn't be a problem picking you up in the harbor. Just give me some sort of sign so we can find you."

"Okay. Thanks, Irvine."

He blushed, embarrassed to be so emotional. "It's good to hear your voice, Quisty."

Gently, she replied, "Can't wait to see you."

Irvine paged both Xu and Selphie, eager to share the news but unable to leave the bridge unattended, then paced until they arrived. Selphie came up the elevator first. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she was wearing a pair of green, corduroy overalls with a cute splatter of white paint across her cheek. He affectionately brushed his thumb across the dried spot and pulled her close.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Good news." He held onto it as long as he could. "I just heard from Quistis. She's fine. Zell is, too."

Selphie threw her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to the tender spot under his jaw. "Booyaka!"

When Xu arrived, she took the news somewhat less enthusiastically. A guarded expression dropped over her face when Irvine told her where they were and of his plan to pick them up. She walked across the bridge so that her back was facing them, though Irvine could see a shadow of her reflection in the polished window. Her fingers gripped her arms tight as she crossed them, and she finally said, "We can't do that."

"Why?" Selphie and Irvine both asked.

"The day we were attacked by the Galbadians, Quistis spent most of her savings in Dollet," Xu explained.

Irvine was frustrated. "So?"

"So...Squall's report might have been right. They could have betrayed us to the Galbadians." Xu turned toward them now, disappointment wearing hard lines around her eyes. "I've already talked to the headmaster about it, and as long as they're okay, we're going to leave them in Dollet. With what happened to Squall...we can't take any chances. They'll probably be safer there anyway if we don't interfere. We'll get back to Balamb, get everything settled down, and then we can send someone to get them."

"But--"

"Right now, your orders from both me and the headmaster are to stay on course for Balamb." Xu brushed her fingers across Irvine's arm as she walked past. "We all trusted Squall, too. We can't take the risk."

"Oh, wow. Major bummer," Selphie muttered as Xu left.

Plagued by uncertainty, Irvine glanced down at the radio. If Quistis had been in Dollet the morning of the attack, then that meant she'd been entering Garden when he'd heard her in the training center. Did that also mean that she'd let in Seifer Almasy like Squall had reported? He couldn't imagine either of them turning traitor.

"I want to talk to her," Selphie announced. She leaned over the radio and called Quistis's name, but all they received back was soft, hissing static.

0 0 0

Seifer only vaguely recognized the voice of the cowboy and was a little put off by the way he talked to Quistis over the radio as if they were life long friends. What Seifer remembered of the man wasn't very flattering. He had a delicate face, like a woman's, and long hair that dangled down his back in a wavy ponytail. In fact, everything Seifer remembered about him was distinctly feminine, all the way down to the purple vest he wore under his coat. The way he'd made Quistis beam from ear to ear, practically salivating for home, didn't improve Seifer's impression of him either.

They thanked Captain Colburn, who locked up behind them, and parted ways with him on the docks.

Quistis lingered near the water, as if she expected to see Garden coming for her already. "This is perfect," she said. "Dr. Shipey will be much more safe and comfortable in Garden."

Seifer didn't say anything, for once choosing to keep his thoughts to himself, and they walked in slow silence past abandoned boats until someone behind them shouted. It was Captain Colburn, waving one hand and pointing out to sea with the other. Seifer followed his line of sight and moved Quistis so she could see between the hulls of two schooners as well.

"_Perfect_, huh?"

"Is that...?"

"Sure as shit."

A Galbadian ship was heading toward the harbor at a steady clip, splitting the sea with its huge prow, with two more sailing a distance behind it. Each one could carry enough navy personnel to hold a town like Dollet. Three of them would be able to entrench themselves so deeply in the area that even Balamb Garden would find them difficult to move. And they'd made good time. Krier was damn serious about wanting Shipey back.

Quistis swore, the word sounding foreign from her lips. "I think you were wrong about Zell being the jinx. I think maybe it's me."

"No. I'm positive it's Zell."

They got back into town and watched from the far side of a seafood restaurant as the first ship slowed down and entered the harbor. A man in full regalia was standing at the front of the ship, shouting orders to his men: a group a fully armed, fully uniformed soldiers. He looked like someone of consequence, more than just a captain, and certainly not the sort of man who was sent into a meaningless battle. Krier definitely knew where they were.

Quistis grabbed his arm. "This is bad."

"Tch. We can take 'em."

She shook her head. "Are you honestly insane, or do you just say things like that to irritate me?"

He smirked. "Honestly insane. I know you've got this delicate, emotional balance. And I'd never want to upset it, or you might snap and try to kill me again." Really, he'd been serious. He was worth at least twenty of these men alone.

The first ship waited for the other two to enter the harbor before anyone disembarked, but once the exodus started it moved quickly.

"They're not wasting any time out there. Let's get back before they've got the whole city covered. They'll go for the trains first, like I said."

Avoiding soldiers wasn't easy. Dollet had narrow streets with buildings packed close together, not leaving many places to duck out of the way. Citizens were scrambling for the safety of their homes in every direction, so they moved with the crowd whenever they could. Dollet was a city familiar with occupation, so there was a certain orderliness to the chaos, as if everyone had been through drills and knew what was expected of them. Store owners had already boarded up their windows against looting the day before and school had been canceled so that teenagers were wandering the streets. It was almost routine.

Seifer paused and pulled Quistis with him to the side of the road.

"What is it?"

He didn't want to look like these people, like a beaten dog crouching before an angry master. "I'm not going to run from them."

"We're not."

"I want to fight."

She put her hands on her hips so that her arms bowed out like wings. "I suppose you do. But we're in a hurry."

"You don't have to wait for me," he said. If saving Dollet was going to fall to him, he was going to get an early start. The Galbadians would be easier to pick off when they were new to the streets, and there wasn't a doubt in his mind that with a well executed guerilla campaign, he could single-handedly drive them out of Dollet -- or at least make their occupation such an uncomfortable affair that they'd be loathe to ever return.

"I won't be able to find you again in this." She waved to the street just as a group of soldiers jogged by.

Seifer hurled a fireball at one of them, setting his uniform aflame, then grabbed the next man by the neck and smashed his head into the wall hard enough to crack the visor on his helmet. Quistis was forced to take on the other two, who she finished off with a tornado spell that blew both of them across the street and into a row of prickly hedges.

Stepping over the body of the prone soldier, Seifer said to her, "If you want to kiss me goodbye, you can do it now. There's no point in putting it off."

He expected her to object to the kissing suggestion. Instead, she said, "Goodbye?"

"You're going back to Garden."

"And you're not?" She followed him out into the street again, where he was waiting for another unsuspecting group of soldiers to approach.

"Isn't really my kind of place."

Her blue eyes were big and round, her lips moving without saying anything.

"Well...then we won't stay there," she finally offered. "We'll get another airship from Laguna and we'll fly to the rest of the places on Shipey's list like we planned."

"What about Dollet?"

"Garden's coming. They'll do the fighting." She really seemed to believe it. Seifer, on the other hand, didn't recall the cowboy saying anything about remaining in the area.

"You want me to go along?" he asked.

"Of course I do." A muscle at the back of her jaw jumped and flexed as she gritted her teeth together. "We need you. You _know_ that."

Immediately, as if she'd turned a key in his head, he was swayed. Saving the world was better than saving a town, after all, and he shivered weakly at being called necessary. She led him by the hand, even as he spotted a group of five soldiers coming up the street from the harbor, roaming like a pack of feral dogs. Despite her valiant attempts to avoid conflict, they got into two fights on their trip back to the house (once to protect a little boy who'd gotten separated from his father, and then a second time when Quistis saw a soldier kick a dog). By the time they arrived on the porch, they were sweaty and buzzing with the electric hum of magic.

"What's going on?" Zell asked right away when they walked in.

Quistis told him of the discussion she'd had with Irvine while Seifer retrieved his gunblade from his room. He came back downstairs to find Quistis and Zell packing Dr. Shipey's research into Fujin's black backpack. The professor had a wide assortment of papers and printed photographs now, none of which could be left behind lest the Galbadians find them, and it all had to be kept in a strict order. While trying to help, Seifer made the mistake of pulling a colored tab off a piece of paper when it got stuck to his coat and was promptly kicked off the project, ordered to sit in the living room and "keep an eye out" for soldiers through the picture window. Raijin and Fujin sat with him, both apparently just as useless.

"We're not going to be able to get anywhere hauling a whole goddamn library with us," Seifer yelled.

"This stuff is the entire reason we're going anywhere," Quistis yelled back.

Shipey's massive quantities of research were fanning the flames of Seifer's curiosity. He'd been searching for a new dream since the sorceress's knight one had fallen flat, and there was no better hero to emulate throughout history than Vascaroon -- as an added bonus, he was relatively confident that the long dead Trabian was not a member of the sprawling Leonhart clan. He'd liked what he'd heard of Vascaroon from the tablets so far, but Seifer's knowledge of ancient history was sparse, including only what he'd learned from his study of sorceresses as a teenager. Now he wanted to know what Vascaroon had looked like, what language he spoke, and what he had believed but was hesitant to ask for the extra information. Asking would only lay bare what he didn't know.

"SOLDIERS."

Four of them were walking along the sidewalk in front of the house. They were part of a larger group patrolling the street, stopping passing cars and pedestrians. Despite their swords, they were casual about their occupation, joking with one another and vandalizing mailboxes as they passed.

"Where?" Quistis skidded into the room and squeezed between Seifer and Raijin. "Can we leave out the back? We can't take Dr. Shipey through all of them."

"Out the back? What the hell do you think this is? The only thing that's out the back is my backyard."

She frowned. "What about--"

"What about we _fight_?" Seifer interrupted. "You want to get back to Garden, then you've got to show that son of a bitch Krier you mean business. Those are a bunch of guys who learned how to use a sword yesterday. And we've got five people trained to kill from birth. I think we can take them."

The unfamiliar uncertainty in her flagged for a moment as his confidence smoothed over her doubt. "Maybe you're right. We're SeeDs." He didn't correct her, sensing she was gathering steam. "If Raijin can protect Dr. Shipey, the rest of us could clear a path to the harbor."

"Damn right we can."

One of her hands tightened into a tiny fist. "We did it at the desert base."

"We kicked their asses."

"They didn't even know what hit them." Her blue eyes sharpened with something primal.

"Dumb bastards will probably shit their pants when they see us coming."

Finally, she smiled. "Let's do it."

"I'm in," Zell announced. He was standing in the doorway, his weight shifted to one leg so that he could prop his free foot against his calf like a ballerina. "And maybe we can help save Dollet, too. Right? Get a resistance going."

"We're always with Seifer, ya know," Raijin added.

They strapped Fujin's backpack onto Dr. Shipey, even snapping an extra clip around his chest to ensure it was secure, and Quistis gave him a quick pep talk, explaining that he shouldn't watch them fight if blood bothered him, and that any monsters which appeared were friendly, called there by the team.

"I'm going to cast a few protective spells on you. They'll keep you from getting hurt by any stray spells or bullets. Raijin will recast them if they wear off," she explained before producing around him a blue protect spell and a pink shell that gradually faded. Before they left, she poked the barrier just to be sure, and was satisfied by the way the magic gathered and deflected her finger.

Seifer took the lead.

Outside, he made no effort to be discreet. He simply walked up to the nearest man and let the momentum of his stride carry Hyperion through a swift arc, slicing through the unsuspecting soldier's spinal column. The man grunted and crumpled to the ground in front of his comrades, leaving a slick, bloody smear across Seifer's blade.

He was the first casualty of the war. Everyone stared down at him for a moment, letting the enormity of what they'd just witnessed sink in, until Fujin's pinwheel whistled past Seifer's right arm, tore a three inch gash in one of the men's armor and then lodged in his shoulder, knocking him onto his backside on the concrete where he bled feebly until she came to retrieve her weapon. The two remaining men, faces blanched, turned and ran but only got a few steps before Quistis's whip flew out like a deadly, golden python and wrapped around the slower one, snapping him in half with his own momentum and nearly pulling her off her feet.

From beginning to end, the slaughter took less than five seconds.

Raijin kept one fist tangled in Shipey's backpack strap as they jogged toward the harbor. From the bushes and from behind buildings, soldiers fired at them, chipping the cobblestone street around them as the slugs screamed past, leaving hot trails through the air. One clipped Seifer's shoulder, then shattered on Dr. Shipey's protect shield, startling a terrified shriek out of the professor.

Seifer felt someone press a firm hand over his shoulder to staunch the flow of blood followed by the soothing warmth of a cure spell that knitted his skin back together as they fell back against the side of the bank. He looked down at Quistis who wiped her fingers off on the trailing end of his coat as they waited for the gunfire to cease. When it did, a few spells from Fujin and Raijin were enough to send the men into a retreat, and they resumed their course toward the sea.

All the way downtown, they managed to drive the Galbadians back, scattering them like cockroaches. But in the middle of town, they were beginning to organize. Seifer caught a brief glimpse of the man from the front of the first ship near the fountain, surrounded by officers before they ducked behind a large dumpster.

"What are they doing?" Zell asked.

"Using small groups of men to figure out where we are, and then gathering a larger force to intercept us," Quistis replied.

"It's not that many." Seifer peeked around the dumpster. "Only...maybe...forty."

"Forty?" Dr. Shipey choked.

"We took on more than that getting you out of the base," Seifer replied. The man was grossly underestimating his skills.

"Still, it would be best to avoid it if we can." Quistis looked around, but they were crouched in an ally, and all roads in Dollet led through the town square. To circumvent it, they'd have to take a much more unconventional route. Seconds later, Fujin found one.

"SEWER." She pointed to a manhole in the middle of the ally.

"I'd rather fight than go through there," Seifer objected.

"Hey! No. I get it." Zell was crouched over the cover and gestured to the edges. "This one's welded shut."

"Great. Then let's forget it."

"He means that it's an entrance to the catacombs," Quistis said quietly. "Remember? Captain Colburn told us that sewer entrances were welded shut."

"And we still can't get through them due to that small detail," Seifer replied. "_Really_. We can get through these guys."

"LIGHTNING," Fujin suggested.

"Yeah! Raijin, you could use thunder spells to reheat the weld, and then I can break it," Zell said. "The metal was probably tempered a little when they made the weld, so it will be brittle enough that if we heat it up, I should be able to snap it and lift the cover off."

"Manhole covers are heavy. You better help him, Seifer," Quistis said.

Somehow, Seifer found himself standing elbow to elbow with Zell Dincht while Fujin and Quistis kept an eye on the Galbadians and Raijin cast a series of electric blasts at the manhole. Even with Quetzalcoatl's invisible assistance, Raijin had to work hard to get the weld heated and his hair was standing on end from ambient static by the time Zell told him to stop. They gripped the cover together on opposite sides, the heat burning their arms, and heaved. Zell's face hovered close to Seifer's, their noses almost touching, and he grunted profusely like a monkey. _Oh god._ Seifer strained desperately against the weld, the muscles in his arms flexing painfully, and tried to turn his face away. _Please. Just end. Come loose, you motherfu--_

The weld snapped.

"Great work," Quistis said as she walked back to them and got shocked by Raijin as she brushed past him.

Before the Galbadians came to investigate, they slipped through the hole and into a long abandoned sewer system. The tunnel was small, only about four feet high so that they had to crouch and Dr. Shipey's backpack scraped against the ceiling. Raijin pulled the cover back over the manhole to hide their tracks, leaving them in darkness to blaze a path through the sewer and into the catacombs.

"Don't get too far ahead," Quistis warned.

Seifer had to feel along the rough walls as someone (he had no idea who) held onto the back of his coat. The darkness was oppressively heavy and the air had a faint sour odor like rotting apples. Remembering the uneven floor of the catacombs and the frequent air shafts, Seifer moved slowly, testing every bit of ground in front of him with one hand before stepping. They crawled on like this in silence until a square plate of checkered, purple glass appeared in the ceiling, letting in opaque light from above. Seifer stopped and pressed his hand to the plate.

"We must be under the town square," Quistis whispered. "I remember seeing these in the sidewalks there."

Above them, the Galbadians were gathering and waiting. Or maybe they'd already figured out where their quarry had gone and were coming down the sewer after them. Glass plates punctuated the ceiling, giving them dim light to navigate by, for the next five minutes -- something Seifer became intensely grateful for when the sewer floor suddenly crumbled, giving way to the intersecting catacombs. The crypts were not so well lit, and they had to continue on in complete blindness.

"This was a stupid idea," Seifer muttered. Down here, helpless and lost, he felt more vulnerable than he would have felt taking on the entire Galbadian army. At least in battle he knew what to expect. Here death could approach unseen from any blank corner where he knew it was settled like a fog over a century's worth of corpses. Unable to take the terrible suspense, he cast a fire spell.

The crackling, sulfurous ball left his hand in a flash, blazing down a long, empty corridor that impressed itself upon his mind before the magic fizzled and died.

"What if there's no way out," Dr. Shipey suddenly said. "These places aren't built with many exits."

"Don't say that," Quistis admonished. "There's a way."

"I don't like being in here. I can't see. I can't see _anything._" He was beginning to panic. "And I can't breathe. Do you feel that? I feel like I'm suffocating."

"You're fine," Zell insisted. "Just close your eyes."

When he felt a corner, Seifer cast another fire spell and picked a direction to continue in. Although they were certainly past the town square by now, the Galbadian army far behind them, they had no choice but to continue through the catacombs until they found a way out.

Some benevolent god must have been on their side, he decided, because when he cast his next fireball it illuminated a boarded up gap in the wall.

"Did you see that?" Quistis asked.

"Yeah. Stand back."

He found the wood with his fingers, then funneled fire spells into it until the flame took, crackling warmly and casting light across their frightened faces. Dr. Shipey looked a little worse for wear, his face smudged and his knees knocking together, and he crowded forward into the firelight. While the old wood burned, they had to cover their faces against the soot and the smoke. Seifer was coughing and gagging by the time he was able to break through the barrier with Hyperion, sending a spray of embers into the room beyond. One by one, they crawled through the still smoldering hole into a quiet furnace room.

Through a door and up a set of stairs, they emerged into an abandoned office.

"That worked out well," Quistis said as she squinted against the light and peered out one of the windows. They'd passed undetected underneath the square and had come out the other side a mere five blocks from the harbor.

"BARELY," Fujin replied. She was frowning and dusting off her clothes.

The office doors were locked, so they had to search through desk drawers until they found a tin box of unlabeled keys, then tried every one of them in the front door until one of them slid in all the way and turned.

Outside, the street was devoid of people. Seifer spotted a few faces in the windows of buildings they passed, but didn't see any soldiers. That would change, he figured, as they got closer to the harbor. Even if they were unloading most of their men to take the town, they would not have left their ships completely undefended, especially knowing that Balamb Garden was in the area.

This assessment proved accurate. The harbor was crawling with soldiers who seemed to be searching all the boats docked there. In their midst, Seifer spotted Captain Colburn, yelling at the top of his lungs at the man who was holding him by the arms as a team of men boarded the_Black Mage_.

"Look there," Dr. Shipey whispered and pointed. "It's the president."

Krier himself was standing on the docks in front of the Galbadian ships, surrounded by a staff of body guards, barking orders into a walkie-talkie. He didn't look like he had on television a few nights before: tie askew, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his hair unkempt. This wasn't the calm and collected public face of Jack Krier, but a man at the end of his patience. Seifer might not have recognized him if Dr. Shipey hadn't pointed him out.

"How long until Garden gets here?" Zell asked.

"I don't know," Quistis replied. "Soon. Irvine said they were only a couple hours from Dollet."

They stayed put, waiting for Balamb Garden to arrive and clear the harbor. Wedged between the two groups of soldiers, Seifer knew they would lose Dr. Shipey if they were discovered -- there was no way they could defend themselves against that many men and still keep track of him.

The Galbadians spotted Garden first. Like an ancient sea monster, it slipped out from behind Dollet's chalk cliffs, a silent behemoth of light easily four times the size of the largest Galbadian ship. In a slow pirouette, Balamb Garden turned to acknowledge the besieged town. Krier waved his men back to one of the ships, a small gunboat, meaning to take on the academy head to head.

"This is our chance," Quistis announced.

At a flat out sprint, they ran for the docks, hoping in the chaos of Garden's appearance no one would notice them. Most didn't, occupied with the more important sea battle about to take place, and those who did pause to see who was running at them were quickly dispatched by Zell who had taken the lead. Seifer, weakened by the fire spells he'd cast, had fallen behind and was helping Raijin to pull Dr. Shipey along.

Someone who was still thinking clearly spotted them: "There they are! There!"

Quistis dropped back to take Dr. Shipey from Raijin's grip. "Hold them back! I'll signal Garden!"

While Quistis and Shipey climbed onto the deck of the nearest ship, Seifer turned to face the enemy. They were confused, uncertain where their immediate attention should be directed. But Krier was among them, marching like one of the field commanders of old, pointing every man in their direction, and shouting out orders to keep the docks secure at all costs.

Backs against the sea, they were left with only their guardian forces to rely on. Zell summoned his first.

Ifrit was just how Seifer remembered -- all flame and noise, a force that was more intimidating than powerful. But against the soft flanks of the Galbadian army, he was a horror they had never imagined encountering. Chest extended, he let out a bellow that rippled the water all around them and conjured out of the ether a ball of hissing lava that made everyone take a step back. Whatever signal Quistis had intended to send to Irvine on the bridge of the Garden was made moot by their guardian's smoking, horned head protruding above the shipsand the screams of the soldiers as Ifrit swept them out to sea with his searing, acrid attack.

When he vanished, leaving an empty space that stank of brimstone, the soldiers were frozen in fear, none of them willing to advance.

"Get in there!" Krier yelled. "Before they summon some other monster to help them!"

So, the terror of Ifrit turned against them as the hoard moved in, eager to suffocate them against the hulls of the ships before they could bring the beast back.

"Garden's coming!" Quistis yelled. "Get up here! They're coming for us!"

For the first time in years, Seifer felt tense fear grip his heart as he followed Fujin up onto the ship's deck, an army at his heels, and ran with her to where Quistis and Dr. Shipey were standing, looking out over the harbor at the approaching form of Balamb Garden. On the second floor, he could see Irvine waving, his coat billowing in the breeze and a rope ladder dangling from the railing. Their ship rocked dangerously as the surge from Garden's engines echoed off the bottom of the harbor, throwing up huge waves that knocked Dr. Shipey onto his knees and a few brave soldiers that had followed them into the water.

"Quisty!" Irvine was leaning over the railing. "Zell! Catch!" He swung the rope ladder toward them. Seifer caught it, then nearly lost it as a sudden list pulled the rope through his fingers, burning and scraping even through the leather of his glove.

"Climb on, Dr. Shipey." Quistis wrapped the professor's hands around the ladder while the deck was stable and forced him with a hard shove to start climbing. "Don't look down! Climb fast!" Zell climbed next, followed by Fujin and Raijin.

The ship heeled as Garden began to turn away.

Seifer swore, the movement wrenching his shoulder out of place.

"Just grab on," he said, draping his injured arm around Quistis's shoulders. "We've got to get off this ship." They both knotted a hand and a foot in the rope before letting it pull them over the railing. Momentum carried them far in a pendulum swing across the water, toward Garden's hull where they impacted with a solid thump. Up above them, Raijin nearly lost his grip, one arm flying out before he righted himself again.

Through the pain and the exhaustion, Seifer saw the soldiers running back toward their ship again, and he felt Quistis grip his collar and pull him tight against her, holding them both firmly to the ladder. Garden was surging away from the harbor now, heading full speed toward the ocean.

"Can you climb?" she asked.

"Yeah."

By her insistence, he went up first, using one hand to pull while the other flopped uselessly at his side, aching horribly as the ball and socket bones of his shoulder grated against one another. On the second floor, Irvine was waiting, his cowboy hat swept off his head and his expression bloodless. Seifer had just gotten his feet settled on the familiar tile floor when Irvine came flying at him, knuckles glancing off his jaw hard enough to nearly knock him back over the side.

"Whoa! Irvine!" Zell was on his back, pulling him off as Quistis came up.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded.

Irvine turned his accusing glare on her. "You _did _let them in, didn't you?" he demanded.

"What? Who?"

"Them!" he pointed directly at Seifer when he said it.

From the doorway, a new voice spoke -- one Seifer immediately recognized from the scolding tone: "I tried to warn you, Irvine." Xu strode onto the scene with eight SeeDs flanking her. "Both you and Selphie are going to have to be punished for violating orders to do this."

Irvine nodded, his head down, shame rising off him like a stench.

"What's going on?" Quistis demanded. "Xu? Irvine?"

Xu sighed. "I'm sorry. But we're going to have to take you into custody."

"Custody?" Zell croaked. "For what?"

No one replied as the SeeDs surrounded them and guided them inside. Seifer was weary with pain and the stress of casting, holding onto reality by a thin thread, and he stumbled into Garden with the taste of blood across his tongue. It seemed so unreal that he didn't think to fight back or even yell at the cowboy for hitting him.

"Where are we going?" Quistis asked.

"To the detention rooms."

"No! I mean Garden. Where is Garden going?"

Xu pushed a button to close the doors to the second floor balcony where Dollet was shrinking in the distance. "Home."

"You're not going to help Dollet?"

"No! We're going to get the hell out of here!" Xu replied.

Seifer could hear Quistis's tender heart breaking, her faith shaken. And even though he'd suspected it all might end this way, he felt sorry for her. Quietly, he grabbed her hand and locked her fingers with his own.


	18. Heaven and Earth

Chapter 17: Heaven and Earth

When the first, muffled explosion from the Galbadian gunship jarred Garden, Xu cursed and split off from the group at a jog, pausing only to glare accusingly at Irvine. For a brief moment, Quistis hoped that the attack might be severe enough to goad Garden into a real fight. But her loyalty to SeeD quickly drove a painful wedge down the center of that desire until she was straining to maintain focus on what was right and what was wrong. Could she ask colleagues to give their life for her word? Seifer's warm palm pressed tight against her own didn't help enhance the clarity of her thoughts. Still, she drew a measure of comfort from his unexpected gesture and clung to him, fully aware that their physical contact would only feed suspicions she'd turned traitor.

_Traitor._ That was the last thing she'd been expecting. Her return to Garden was supposed to be a joyous homecoming, not a humiliating march to the detention room.

Unruly tears stung the back of her eyes, and she gripped Seifer's hand harder until he was lead toward the infirmary and she was guided away with everyone else.

The detention room was the same beige box that it had been the day Seifer had run away to Timber. Only, this was the first time she had ever had ever been put there as a punishment, making the rarely used green chalkboard and spattering of desks with green, plastic chairs seem incredibly bleak. For the next hour, they were left alone with nothing to do but listen to the battle wage on without them. The taste of power was still fresh on Quistis's tongue, and she ached to be on the bridge, involved in every maneuver. But the engines were running hard, which meant that no one on the bridge was doing anything other than calculating how much damage was being done by each shell and how much longer it would take at full speed to get out of firing range.

Seifer wasn't missing for long before Dr. Kadowaki escorted him in, his arm in a sling and a bitter expression hanging heavy on his face.

"OKAY?" Fujin asked.

"Fine." He sat down next to her and leaned forward so that a blue gel ice pack fell out from inside his sling onto the desk. "Doctor's making a big deal out of nothing. I don't need all this shit."

"You should listen to her," Quistis advised. "That'll swell if you don't keep it iced."

Fujin diligently tended to his sore shoulder. Her nimble fingers had a tenderness that surprised Quistis, as did the gnawing jealousy that she felt watching them together.

Zell paced until he found the stubby end of a piece of yellow chalk that screeched across the blackboard as he set up a blank game of hangman. His first choice was obvious (_hotdogs_) and Raijin guessed it before they even got to their eighth letter. Only Seifer refused to participate; he was scratching something into the wooden surface of his desk, not even pretending to be interested in the game. Zell filled in the missing letters and drew a happy face on his half formed man before handing the chalk-stub over to Raijin.

The waiting was tedious and painful, filled with round after alternating round of Raijin and Zell thinking up more and more inane words and Fujin shouting out guesses at the top of her lungs. Quistis was relieved when Xu finally opened the door and walked in.

"Quistis, Zell...we need to talk to you."

They were escorted to the headmaster's office where Cid, Irvine, and Selphie were waiting. Far behind them, though the windows, Quistis could see Krier's ship sitting quietly out of firing range.

"Sit down." Cid's words were clipped, and he looked unwell.

"Is everyone okay?" Zell asked as they sat. "Some of those sounded like they hit pretty hard."

"Some of the classrooms were damaged, but otherwise we're fine." Xu took a set on the other side of the desk beside Cid as he spoke. "Now...I think you can understand that there are a few things we'd like you to explain."

Quistis and Zell alternated telling the tale of their abandonment, trek to Trabia Garden, Esthar, and then Dollet to seek Seifer's assistance. Whenever Zell's story began to stray off-track, or whenever he began to include some of the more embarrassing details of their journey, Quistis took over and re-emphasized Odine's theory that Hyne was returning through Rinoa. As she spoke, the guarded expression on Cid's face slowly shifted from disbelief to silent horror. Everyone else nodded, as if the theory completed some puzzle they'd been laboring over.

"So what I saw in the parking garage..." Irvine drifted off. "That was Hyne?"

"Yeah! Well...sorta. I mean, it's Rinoa, but Hyne's in there," Zell replied.

Ever practical, Xu asked, "Is there some way we can corroborate your story?"

"You can call Laguna."

In Esthar, Laguna had to be pulled out of bed to answer Cid's questions, but he did so emphatically and supported Quistis and Zell's story point for point. Even in regard to some of the later details she knew he couldn't be certain of -- such as their recent abduction of Dr. Shipey and return to Dollet -- he agreed with their version of events. Quistis felt a rush of affection for him as they ended the call. When had Laguna become so reliable?

"You understand that this wasn't personal," Cid said as he signed off on an order to release everyone from detention.

"Of course." Intellectually, she did. But it still hurt.

"We will debrief you on events here once the crisis with the Galbadians has passed," Cid announced. "In the meantime, you're both free to return to life as usual, although a few days of rest may be in order. It sounds like you've been rather busy. As for Seifer, Fujin, Raijin, and Dr. Shipey...they aren't students or SeeDs, so I can't allow them access to all of our facilities. But I will provide them room and board until we reach Balamb." Xu left to retrieve guest passes.

"And then?" Quistis asked.

"We will re-evaluate what we need to do once we reach Balamb," Cid replied. "I don't think there is much we can do in the meantime. Hyne _may _be returning, but we're also in the middle of a war. We have to walk lightly."

In the quiet that fell before Xu returned, Irvine and Selphie were flushed with guilt.

"Squall told me that night in Trabia that you guys had just gotten back," Irvine said -- the first to cave. "I swear, we had no idea that we'd left you behind. And I had no idea that Seifer and his posse were with you in the training center. Hell, I didn't even have time to ask! They just attacked me."

"And we've been looking for you everywhere," Selphie added. "We were really worried."

Somehow, their apologetic faces were difficult to take seriously. After all, they were the only real family Quistis had ever had, and she'd been missing for days before they'd even noticed.

Zell apparently had other concerns.

"You didn't say anything to my mom, did you? She'd freak out if she thought I'd gone evil or was dead or something."

"We haven't been back to Balamb," Cid replied. "No one has spoken to your mother."

"Good! She worries enough about me already. A false alarm is all I need." Zell paused. "Hey. Is the cafeteria still serving? I'm freaking starved."

"It can be my treat," Irvine offered. "You, too, Quisty?"

She froze. "No thanks. I've got to get Dr. Shipey to his room."

When Xu finally returned with four activated guest passes, Quistis took her time sliding each of them into her pocket, hoping Zell, Selphie, and Irvine would get far enough ahead of her that she wouldn't have to talk to them. Zell was rebuilding his bond with them like it had never been broken. But she still felt the break, too sore from the disappointment of letting Dollet fall and being labeled a traitor to slip back into the respected role she'd played.

Cid watched her, his hard gaze softening. "Go get some rest, Quistis. I'll deal with this for a while."

She walked alone back to the detention room. Inside, she found everyone much like she'd left them, except Fujin had covered half the chalkboard in a graffiti-style drawing of swirls, shapes, and half-figures.

"What's the verdict?" Seifer asked.

"Free to go." She handed out the guest passes.

Raijin was intensely amused when he received his. "Never thought I'd be back here again, ya know? Staying in a dorm and everything! Brings back memories, doesn't it, Fu?" From there, he launched into an incomprehensible tale of atrocious rule-breaking.

Over top of his reminiscing, Quistis took Dr. Shipey on a quick tour of Garden. The entire disciplinary committee trailed along even though they knew Garden as well as anyone. She allowed them to dog her footsteps, figuring they felt much like she had in their home -- in enemy territory. In any case, they made the tour more memorable than she could have on her own.

After she saw everyone safely to their rooms (leaving Seifer with a stubborn reminder to take care of his shoulder), she found herself alone in her room. Everything was just as she'd left it: blinds drawn, bed made, a neat stack of clothing piled on top of the dresser. Looking about, she saw traces of what felt like a different, more naive person who had no idea how the world was about to change.

Sighing, she stretched out across her bed and enjoyed the silence.

Finally, she could get a full night's sleep sans Zell and his snoring.

But somehow, that thought didn't ease the tension wrapped around her chest. She'd half expected all of her problems to resolve themselves once she was back on Garden. Now that they hadn't, she knew she really had to face them head-on. But there were so many issues to choose from. Where to begin?

0 0 0

Rinoa stood ankle deep in a field of flowers breathing in the refreshingly sweet scent of chicory and butterfly weed on the warm Centran breeze. For the moment, she was in control. But she was looking at the world through a set of eyes that weren't entirely her own. Her vision was free-floating in time, shaded by what she knew of the future and what Hyne remembered of the deep past. So when Rinoa took a step forward through the thick carpet of blossoms, she did so knowing that she was walking through the ruin of what was once a vast and powerful city. Dusty ghosts weary of haunting this lonely, abandoned corner of the globe flocked to her, eager to be remembered.

Most of the memories Hyne had of this country, however, were ones of complete destruction and chaos -- recalled like splashes of epic poetry made beautiful by the distance of time and the universal romance of tragic death. Rinoa recoiled from these impressions; she didn't want to see the children of ancient Centra slaughtered or see transient life fade and collapse.

Once upon a time, this valley had looked peaceful to her. She'd chosen it as a refuge. But now she couldn't stop sensing crumbling castles, evil witches, and the sharp zest of primal fear.

Hyne knew other things about this place, too -- softer, human things -- but seemed bored by the details of culture. Still, from sharing a mind and body with Hyne, Rinoa had gleaned enough to know that the Centra civilization had been a world of startling extremes: full of color and vibrancy that equally embraced philosophy, honor, hospitality, violence, and sex. They had not been much different from modern Galbadians, Rinoa thought, and sensed that Hyne agreed.

Subconsciously, she followed the trail of an ancient road through the field. She stopped at a crossroads and stood in its center until Squall found her. He'd been investigating the sun-bleached remains of his childhood home. In the heat he'd taken off his heavy jacket and was rumpled with sweat, but he looked carefree.

"Doesn't look like Cid and Edea have been here recently," he said. "Not much there to go back to anyway. And I haven't seen any sign of Garden. I think we're safe. We've got a solid lead on them, even if they get the Ragnarok."

Rinoa couldn't help but feel relieved. Since they'd left Garden, Hyne had been preoccupied and ultimately unconcerned with day-to-day life. Even though Rinoa regretted the way they had left, she appreciated the peace that being alone with Squall afforded her, and she wasn't eager to be completely supplanted by Hyne again.

Squall shaded his eyes and looked across the field at the mountains. "Do you remember the last time we were here?"

She nodded and took his hand. "After time compression."

"I don't remember it," he admitted. "Actually, I don't remember much about time compression at all...except for feeling lost and confused. I don't remember seeing you there." He forked a hand through his hair.

She shrugged -- it had been _her_ moment to remember, not his -- and pulled him close.

He kissed her with soft, salty lips. Squall was not an expert kisser. Even after years of being with one another and plenty of practice, he didn't have the polished finesse of her previous boyfriends. But his kisses were full of raw honesty, not part of some larger game or an attempt to impress her. Like Squall, they were genuine and to the point, the sort that left her knowing exactly how he felt about her. When he pulled away, she lingered, burying one hand in his hair to hold his familiar taste across her lips.

"Do you want to stay here?" he asked. "At the orphanage?"

"No."

"Good. It's the first place they'd look for us."

Impulsively, she replied, "I'd like to go north of here, over the mountains."

"The weather's better up there," he agreed. "And there's still some healthy forest inland where we could hide the ship."

"I want to go all the way up to the coast, where the lunar cry fell when it came down on Centra."

"Why? It's just rock up that far."

Rinoa didn't respond, though she suddenly knew what they would find on Centra's desolate northern shores as if Hyne were whispering an explanation in her ear. In places where the cry had scrubbed the ground clean of life, the bedrock was exposed, and so were fragments of blue-green crystal -- part of a snaking system of mineral deposits that gripped the earth's mantle like a fungus on the roots of a tree. The Lunatic Pandora had been built around a similar rock that had fallen from the moon. But these were slightly different, native to the earth, and sang with a separate kind of resonance.

What would respond to their ancient music?

"We don't have to hurry," Squall said. "We've got plenty of time now."

He was hinting that he wanted something from her, but she was too bemused to cater to his insecurities. "We need to be there before the moon comes up."

_And then? _Rinoa ignored Squall who was verbally contemplating their timeline and tried to focus on the consciousness sharing her mind. _Then what? _She didn't often try directly addressing Hyne, so she was surprised to receive an immediate reply.

_Then we call them down to help us._

Centra was a lonely place, but it didn't feel big enough for Rinoa's crowded mind as Hyne took the reins, pushing forward to commandeer her senses and leaving her disembodied but aware, on the fringe of existence.

_Can you feel them?_

As the world faded out along with Squall, the ocean waves on the beach, and the heady scent of flowers, Rinoa was surrounded by terrifying emptiness. Being alone no longer frightened her, but the two lumbering shadows imposing themselves upon her inner eye made her tremble.

_They are Jormangand and Fenrir._

They were scales, fur, and fangs -- a massive snake, all dripping with poison, and a wolf bound long ago by heavy chains on the surface of the moon, buried underneath a deluge of ethereal monsters. And she knew they were waiting there. Waiting…so if she called, they would fall.

0 0 0

The hour was late, but Garden was still buzzing. Even the cafeteria was still open; it was full of faculty members and students still hunched over their plates, scraping their lives back together. Grateful that she wouldn't have to go without, Quistis got something to go and began eating it as she made her way up to the bridge. On the third floor, she met Selphie who was coming down the lift.

"Hey. Is that your dinner?" Selphie asked.

"Yeah. I'm just now getting around to it."

"You should have come with us earlier. Zell ate _ten_ hotdogs. No joke. I think he's still sleeping them off."

Quistis rolled her eyes. "He thinks I tried to starve him."

Selphie grinned. "Did you?"

"Maybe a little..." Quistis couldn't help but smile. "Anyway, I thought I'd see what's going on up on the bridge. See if I can help out."

"Oh." Selphie's smile immediately dropped. "Uh...it's actually pretty intense up there right now."

"Intense? Why?"

She sighed. "It's the Galbadians. They're still following us, and the president is threatening to launch a missile attack against Balamb unless we turn Dr. Shipey over to them."

"We can't do that!"

"I know. We're not going to. But it's_ Balamb_, Quisty. Our Balamb. Headmaster Cid is negotiating with them."

"I could try talking to Krier. I met him at that cocktail party of Laguna's. And...well...I guess he doesn't know me as well as I know him, but I could give it a shot."

Selphie looped an arm around Quistis's waist. "I'm sure the headmaster has it handled. Besides, you're off duty. Enjoy it for once."

Quistis wasn't sure whether Selphie's statement was a dismissal or honest concern, but she was irritated as she rode the elevator back to the first floor, rebuffed in her attempt to renew her role as a leader. _She_ had done all the work. She'd trudged through the desert with Seifer and Zell to break Shipey out of a fortified, Galbadian base (more than she'd ask of any SeeD), and now she felt like a naughty child being sent to bed early.

She was walking toward one of the fountains on the first floor, still steaming, when she noticed a flurry of cadets ahead. Naturally, Seifer was at the epicenter of the storm, though it was unclear whether the students were trying to follow him or run away. His infamy stretched beyond the role he'd played as Edea's knight and included his rivalry with Squall, who was now widely renowned as the world's greatest warrior -- she supposed the younger students didn't know whether to try and kill him or prostrate themselves at his feet. At the moment, from the look on his face, she would have advised them to flee. Most did as he charged through the crowd, gunblade waving.

"What're you doing?" she asked as he stormed up to her.

He jabbed Hyperion in between two of the floor tiles. "Is there some reason I can't get into the training center?"

"Well...yeah. You're not a student here."

"So?"

"So, Garden can't let just anybody wander into a place like that. Visitors would get killed all the time."

He crossed his arms self-importantly. "I'm not just anybody."

"Clearly." She pushed past him to sit down and started again on her quickly cooling dinner.

"Can't you go talk to Cid about it?" he asked. "That son of a bitch is just sticking it to me for not following his grand plan."

Quistis shook her head. "I was just up there, and Cid's busy negotiating with the Galbadians. I don't think he's going to have time to authorize you to use the training center. Can't it wait until morning?"

Stubbornly, he set his jaw and crossed his arms. "No. It can't. I heard from Zell that they thought the two of you were killed in there or something, so they've almost wiped out all the monsters. If I don't get in there now, there aren't going to be any left in the morning to fight. I was looking for the Wuss...figured I'd slap him around a little bit until he gave me his ID, but the little bastard has dropped off the fucking map."

"He's sleeping off a hotdog binge according to Selphie."

"That's an unpleasant image."

Silently, Quistis agreed. Waving her fork she said, "If you let me finish eating, I'll take you."

"I'm not a little boy. I don't need an escort."

_Why does it always have to be a battle?_ She ground her teeth together. "Just sit down and wait."

He did, but he was fidgety and she was made anxious by how close he was and the way he swung an arm out to rest it along the back of the bench behind her. Red faced, she looked around to see if anyone had noticed the all too easy way he fit against her side. Between the hand-holding and his one stolen kiss, she still wasn't sure what he wanted from her or what she wanted from him. Sex, she thought, was probably half about domination for Seifer. And as a leader, she couldn't afford to let him have that power over her. But she'd been waiting and _waiting_ for him to try to kiss her again.

It was just one more thing on her list of issues to resolve, and it was just as confounding as all the rest.

The training center was desolate and empty when they walked in. A few birds chirped in the trees and a butterfly was floating along a clump of flowers, but the sour odor of grats and t-rexaurs was faint. Flushed free of their familiar stench, the place seemed almost welcoming, like a docile stretch of nature waiting to be explored. The unusual serenity was lost on Seifer who was already warming up, eager for a fight. She watched him. The precise maneuvers she'd seen him perform as a student were rusty now from two long years of lonely fishing, but he still possessed a distinct, fluid grace that she could see even in his gait. He had strength and speed where Squall had accuracy and endurance.

As he swung his gunblade side to side, a thought occurred to her: "Why isn't your arm in a sling?"

He gripped and rotated his shoulder. "Dr. Kadowaki has me on pills for it. I feel fine."

Although Quistis had only had her arm dislocated once, she knew that it wasn't the kind of injury that healed overnight. Her own arm swelled painfully and she'd taken anti-inflammatory medication for days before she'd gotten full range of motion back. Seifer looked the model of perfect health. Suspicious, she grabbed his elbow.

"You used a potion or something, didn't you?"

"Isn't that what they're for?"

"You're going to get a lecture." She'd spent enough time with Dr. Kadowaki to already anticipate how it would begin: _potions and cure spells are superficial solutions to deeper problems, engineered for emergency use in combat and not everyday healing..._

"A lecture from you?"

"No."

"Good. Yours were always boring as hell. And if it's not going to happen right now anyway, then I don't really care."

"Just warning you."

They hiked together up the path toward the lake. Save the Queen was warm in Quistis's grip from the fire magic she had junctioned to it, but they didn't find any monsters. However, she did notice a few stray flower petals floating in the still water near the bridge and wondered if they were intended for her and Zell, figments from the brief time when they'd both been assumed dead. It was strange to see the remnants of her own memory, stranger still to realize she easily could have died by Squall's hand that day. On the other side of the bridge, she followed Seifer into the brush where he hoped to flush out a stray grat. Although he was bigger than she was, he didn't seem to have any trouble navigating the maze of shrubs, sticks, branches, and thorns that persisted in catching in her hair and scraping along the soft flesh of her side.

"There's nothing in here," she grumbled when a springy branch whipped off Seifer's shoulder to graze her cheek. "They must have killed them all."

"Must have had every damn SeeD in Garden working on this place," Seifer replied as he pushed his way back out onto the trail. Quistis was still imagining the vast force that must have been gathered to search for her body when he noticed the door to the secret area and laughed. "If we can't kill monsters, we might as well kill the mood for a few cadets, huh? We gotta go in."

"No we don't." Quistis hadn't been to the secret area since Squall had rejected her there years before; she didn't want to revisit the site of her humiliation, especially not with Seifer.

But he was insistent. "Sure we do. There's obviously nothing out here. And when monster populations got low, this place was always overrun with underclassmen trying to hit second base. I always got my best busts right before they restocked the training center. It'll be fun. You'll see."

Without waiting for her approval, he barged through the door and onto the dark balcony beyond. But the secret area was empty, inhabited by only a few crickets chirping from dark corners, and Seifer looked genuinely disappointed when Quistis walked in. He turned his back to her and leaned against the railing, propping Hyperion up beside him.

"Well, fuck. Guess the secret area's not so secret anymore. Or is it just that the next generation of underclassmen have the sense to take their girlfriends somewhere private?"

"It's not supposed to be private," Quistis replied and joined him hesitantly at the rail. "It's supposed to be romantic."

"What's romantic about the back of a monster-infested jungle?"

"The lights of Garden, the cool night air, the stars and the moon..." She could tell he wasn't getting it.

"So, did you ever bring a guy here?" he asked.

Quistis turned her face away. "Only once."

"How'd that go?"

"...not well."

He grunted something that she figured was cynical, insulting, or both. Then, more clearly, he said, "Is that why you were eating dinner alone in the hallway? You brought that cowboy friend of yours out here and a t-rexaur ate him?"

Was that a hint of jealousy she'd heard? Quistis shook her head. "No. Not Irvine. And he's up on the bridge helping negotiate with Krier, I think."

Indifferent, Seifer replied, "Their negotiations don't really matter anyway. If they decide to hand Shipey over, we'll just run off with him again."

"Where to?"

"Anywhere. Who cares? You said we weren't staying here anyway."

Seifer's confident but flawed logic was bizarrely comforting. He didn't ever seem to consider failure, which seemed impossible given the sheer amount of failing he'd done in the past. Was he just delusional? Or was there something else that fed his unbreakable arrogance? It didn't seem to matter that he'd ultimately lost the sorceress war or that he'd never made SeeD. Seifer never looked back. Conversely, she was plagued by constant re-imaginings of the past, wondering how things might have turned out differently if she'd never met Squall, or had never taken on an instructorship.

"Are you upset about Dollet?" she asked.

"No."

"Why? It's your home."

"It's not really my _home_. I just have a house there. I mean, it's not like I've got family there or anything." More adroit than usual, he noticed her frown and changed the subject. "So...girls really find this place romantic, huh?"

"Some girls."

He grinned. "Are we talking loose bimbos who don't know any better or sadomasochistic types?"

"Would it help you differentiate the two if I were to shove that big shiny gunblade--"

He cut her off: "No. That's not necessary."

She laughed and forgot about the Galbadian gunship kept just out of sight by Garden's fin. The air was fresh, the night was bright, and a cool ocean breeze was playing in her hair. This was really quite..._nice_.

She knew that being in the secret area with him should have been uncomfortable like it had been with Squall, who stood useless next to her while she'd struggled to maintain a one-way conversation. And while the one she was having now with Seifer wasn't exactly the romantic exchange she'd imagined having years ago, it _was_ remarkably refreshing. A sigh of relief escaped past her lips and the weight hanging on her heart slowly sloughed off, replaced by a fragile hope that Seifer didn't really think the secret area was the least romantic place in Garden.

She needed _something_ to hold on to.

Remembering the way he'd taken her hand that afternoon, she reached across the small distance between them and brushed his fingers. They curled back and he gasped lightly, a short in-take of breath as if she'd stung him. The tension between them had been ready to snap for days and she was growing weary of anticipation. It bothered her that he hadn't tried to kiss her again. The first one had caught her off guard, but now she was ready, even a little bit eager for the attention.

Made bold by the darkness, she pursued him until she had his warm, solid hand firmly in her grasp and laced her fingers through his like he had earlier. He made one feeble attempt at tugging his hand away before he turned to look at her.

"I didn't come out here to get all touchy feely with you."

"Why did you come out here?"

"To fight."

Frustrated and a little hurt, she sunk her fingers hard into the space between his knuckles until she drew out a quiet wince. She'd expected him to respond with greedy lips, tongue, and teeth -- not an argument. He hadn't hesitated before. Why would he turn shy now? Was it because she was the one in control? Curious and bold, she titled her head back to look up at him and began to stand up on her toes. Up, up she went, creeping closer until she crossed the invisible line of polite distance between them. Deep in her stomach, she felt a soft flutter of excitement. She stopped short of touching him, but to leave no doubts about what she wanted from him, she licked her lips and smiled.

A small shrug rippled through Seifer's wide shoulders before he slipped his arm around her back, pulling her close by cradling her in the crook of his arm. It was a gentler movement than she had expected but was also deliberate and strong, providing no route for escape. Her mouth went dry. Her heart constricted making her face flush warmly. She felt like she was sitting at the top of a rollercoaster, suddenly full of foreboding and wondering why she had even considered doing this the first place. And as he closed his eyes, she breathed out a tiny, doubtful gasp.

He caught it in his mouth, swallowed it, and pressed his hot, insistent lips to hers.

_Oh God._

Quistis's half-closed eyes rolled back in her head. Was this really happening?

He kissed her only for a brief moment before he pulled away. The parting of their lips drew Quistis up onto the tips of her toes. She opened her eyes to see his cocky, self-satisfied smirk and suspected that she wasn't really the one in control at all.

He chuckled low in the back of his throat before dropping his head to kiss her again -- longer this time. Perhaps the first one had only been a test, because he locked her body tight against his for this one, pressing his free hand into the small of her back to hold her in place. Behind him, Hyperion clattered to the ground.

Quistis knotted her fingers in the front of his shirt as he kissed each corner of her mouth, then the swell of her bottom lip. If she was kissing back, she was unaware of it. But he didn't seem to mind. He quickly moved on, leaving her mouth to trail warmth down across her jaw, then nudged her head back with his nose and drew his teeth across the sensitive skin of her throat.

Her eyes flashed open and her head lolled back against his arm, ragged breaths ripped from her lungs by his surprisingly generous mouth.

The sky whirled above her, stars streaking through the blackness leaving pinpoint trails. The moon flashed red. Red and...she blinked. Red and _pulsing_?

"Oh no..."

Seifer grunted and lifted his head, though his lips still brushed across her pulse when he spoke. "What?"

"Look at the moon."

"No." He bit her.

"I'm serious. Stop and look."

He cursed before turning his face to the sky. Above them, the full moon was huge and heavy; festering with a growing sore that was quickly forming a glossy, blue eye. A lunar cry.

"God damn it." He scowled. "Let me guess, you think we have to go tell everyone? Like it would do any good..."

Although she was reluctant to say so, that was exactly what she thought. Either aware of what she was thinking or just too irritated to continue, Seifer let her go and she stumbled weak-kneed back up against the railing. He retrieved Hyperion and used it to motion her toward the door with one cutting _whoosh._ The gesture was sharp and demanding, showing more than his closed off expression that he was angered by the interruption.

"Go if you're going to."

She did, but all the way through the training center she couldn't stop licking her lips. At least once, she saw him notice. _I'll have hell to pay for that later_, she thought. But she couldn't stop reliving the moment -- far and away (lunar cry included) the best trip she'd ever had to the secret area.

Her over-sensitive nervous system was still tingling when they passed by the library and spotted Nida walking through the doors with Dr. Shipey in tow. Alarm pumped hard and heavy through Quistis's head.

"Where are you going?" she demanded too loudly and stepped in Nida's path.

"To the bridge."

"With Dr. Shipey?"

Nida looked hurt by her tone, but he quickly recovered. "Headmaster Cid needs him."

"Oh really?" _They're going to give him to the Galbadians._ She couldn't believe it. "For what?"

"To talk to them."

"Just to talk? I'm sure there isn't anything they need to hear from him. Tell them that the professor isn't available."

Somewhere in the sensible portion of her brain, she suspected she was blowing this out of proportion.

"It's not my choice. It's an order." Nida shrugged helplessly. Dr. Shipey, who was getting used to being fought over, just looked resigned.

"If it's just talking, then we can go along," Seifer said. "Just to make sure nothing happens."

Nida didn't argue with their demands. He'd briefly been in one of Quistis's classes and was used to seeing her as an authority figure. The same part of her that had drawn pleasure from bossing around her peers as a child felt satisfied as she followed Nida, heart pounding.

_God, Quistis. Calm down._

When they arrived on the bridge, they were met by four tense faces made ruddy by the halo of the moon overhead: Headmaster Cid, Xu, Irvine, and the broadcast image of President Krier. All seemed surprised to see Seifer, but their attention quickly shifted to Dr. Shipey and the most immediate problem.

"Dr. Shipey," Cid dragged him across the bridge to stand in front of the monitor. "Please explain this lunar cry to your president. Please explain to him that this isn't Esthar's doing."

Quistis winced and held Seifer back out of everyone's way. This really _was_ serious.

"Do not be intimidated by them, Bob," Krier said, his voice booming unnaturally through Garden's speakers. "You understand the importance of this, don't you?"

"Just tell him the truth," Cid added.

At the center of all their attention, the professor began to seize up. Brokenly, he looked into the monitor at the angry face of his president and began, "From what I've read...I mean, from the Centran tablets we've found...since I've left Galbadia, that is..."

"Just spit it out, Bob!" Krier snapped. "Is Odine doing this?"

"No." Shipey thought twice and continued, "At least, not that I know of."

Quistis could see Krier's teeth grinding together. "So then who is doing it? Lunar cries don't just_ happen_."

"Oh. They do. They're perfectly natural--"

"_Bob_."

Shipey wrung his hands in front of him. "My research tells me that it might be the work of Hyne, sir."

"Hyne?"

"Yes, sir. I've uncovered more of the legend since we last spoke. Most pertinent at the moment is a piece that claimed Hyne would have the ability to call down a lunar cry that would bring down god beasts from the moon. Dr. Odine would probably understand this better than I do, but I think that may be what's happening right now."

"Do we know where this is going to fall?" Irvine asked.

"Projection, Xu?" Cid asked.

She labored over a panel for a few moments before saying, "Looks like it's over northern Centra, sir."

"My men confirm," Krier announced. "Northern Centra if it falls sometime in the next five hours."

"The Lunatic Pandora couldn't possibly have gotten to Centra without anyone in Galbadia noticing," Cid said. "Nor would Esthar want to trigger a cry that close to home. It's as likely to get them as it is to get you."

Seifer nudged Quistis and leaned down to say, "See, I told you we didn't have to rush to tell anyone." Quistis ignored Seifer's comment, preferring to stay focused on the situation at hand rather than what they could have been doing at the moment.

"Can we conference Dr. Odine in?" Krier asked and turned away from the monitor to address one of his own men. "See if you can get Odine on the line. I don't suppose he's missed any of what's happening."

"I'm sure that's not necessary," Cid replied. "What do you say we cut a deal, President Krier? This cry is going to fall just south of Galbadia. So, in exchange for cutting off your pursuit of our vessel and assurances of Balamb's safety, we will send some of our forces to defend Deling City from anything that may come down. Does that sound equitable to you?"

Krier scowled. "I would like to speak to Dr. Odine first. Then I will get back to you." The screen went blank, and everyone on the bridge let out a collective sigh.

"I think he'll take the offer, sir," Xu announced. "He'd be a fool not to. They'll need the help. He can't fight us and a deluge of monsters at the same time."

"Hopefully he'll see it that way," Cid agreed. "Thank you for your help, Dr. Shipey. He was requesting to speak to you directly. I'm sorry if we pulled you out of bed."

"No. It's okay. I was just in the library doing research."

Only now did Cid acknowledge Quistis and Seifer. His gaze made Quistis shrivel.

"Since you appear to be concerned with staying close to the professor, would the two of you be so kind as to escort him to his room? The Galbadians will be a while before they decide anything." Cid took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I know it's a precious commodity for us all right now, but you can trust me."

Quistis nodded.

Xu was attempting to get a hold of Laguna when Quistis and Seifer left, Dr. Shipey between them. Quistis knew the man must have felt like a choice piece of steak being fought over by three grendels, but it was hard not to feel protective of him. He was their only link to Vascaroon, the one remaining source of a now critical mythology. On the wider world stage, she knew that possessing him and defeating Hyne meant power. But for her it was more personal. He was the one bit of hope that somehow they'd find a better way.

"I'd like to get my materials from the library," he said. "I left them there in the rush."

"What're you working on now? Anything important?" Seifer asked.

Shipey eyed him. "It's all important."

"Sure. But, anything that's going to save the world?"

A dry laugh choked the professor. "It's not as simple as you think to find in their writing a reference to a weapon that will _save the world._ According to Trabian mythology, that's exactly what Hyne is trying to do -- save us."

"Save us by dropping a shit-ton of monsters on our heads? By destroying us?" Seifer snorted. "Doesn't sound like a religion I'd want to belong to."

"Well, they believed that the material world was a cosmic mistake," Shipey replied. "The rest of existence, what they called the _fullness_, is made up of layers of ethereal things. First there is the omnipresent, unknowable god who is everything and everywhere. And from this god, a group of archons spontaneously emanated...down through levels, until finally Hyne came into being. You see? According to the Trabians, Hyne is a god. A divine being. And Hyne created the world."

Quistis wasn't sure why Shipey was telling them the details of Vascaroon's religion, but she let the professor talk, sensing that he was filling a void -- making sense of the chaos around him by clinging to old myths. He'd been so immersed in Ancient Centran, she wondered if maybe he'd come to believe everything the old scribes were telling him.

"Hyne meant to create the world in imitation of the fullness, as another emanation, another heaven. But Hyne made a mistake, because this was a deliberate attempt to re-create what is unknowable, so the world that resulted was fundamentally flawed. Once the mistake was made, the only way to fix it was to destroy the material world and re-make it. So Hyne became the destroyer."

"If that's what they believed, then why would Vascaroon want to stop Hyne?" Quistis asked.

"Because life is good, in its own way. The other archons recognized that, so they destroyed Hyne instead. And Hyne's essence spread across the world like a bandage, holding everything in balance. The archons then created guardians to maintain the balance."

"Guardians?"

Shipey nodded. "The ancient Trabians and Centrans were aware of guardian forces, but hardly able to utilize them the way you do. To them, they were the protectors of life."

Seifer laughed softly. "I'm not sure I can believe that cactaur is divine."

"Vascaroon believed we _all _are. Everything. And that _this _is heaven. One of many, anyway."

"A shitty heaven, if you ask me," Seifer replied.

"Vascaroon's beliefs obviously didn't let him down. And if we can trust it to mirror the real world at all, then whatever is going to come down from the moon might be something similar to a guardian force. Like a dark guardian force. I'm sure that's what Dr. Odine is going to tell President Krier. After all, I've been looking through _his_ books to try and confirm my theories." Shipey walked through the open doors of the library. "President Krier should take your headmaster's offer. He should be terrified. We all should be."

"We've fought guardian forces before," Quistis said. "Odin, Bahamut, Griever..."

Shipey was surprised. "Well then...President Krier would be _very _smart to take the offer."

When they picked up Dr. Shipey's materials in the library, he did indeed have several books by Dr. Odine in his stack, including the volume on para-magic that Quistis had recently read. She checked them out for him on her ID.

"Vascaroon seems like a pretty reliable kind of guy," Seifer said as they were leaving. "But this whole...multiple heavens with emanating gods and stuff. I don't know. I don't buy it."

"It's a metaphor," Dr. Shipey replied.

"For what?"

"For how he related to the world."

"Sounds to me like he _didn't_ relate to the world. He thought the world was just a hollow shell of existence. I think this world is probably all we've got."

A crowd gathering in the quad to watch the lunar cry build caught their attention and they detoured there before heading to the dorms. Already, the blue tear looked like it had doubled in size. The last time Quistis had seen a lunar cry, she'd watched it from the close vantage point of space where she'd been able to see the monsters squirming under the thin film of atmosphere that covered the moon. From earth, she couldn't tell how close the tear was to bursting, but it looked bigger than the last one. And it seemed disconcertingly to be pointed directly at her.

"Shit..." Seifer shook his head. "This is going to be huge, isn't it?"

There was nothing to do but stand and wait. Behind them, Quistis supposed Krier was doing the same thing, postponing his war plans until he could judge how severe a set-back the cry might be. And far to the east in Esthar, Dr. Odine was probably grasping his telescope in scientific euphoria.

Some forty minutes later, the tear hemorrhaged and the night sky glazed over a deep maroon with light from the hot, crimson pillar plunging straight toward Centra.

0 0 0

The cry broke over an invisible barrier high above Rinoa's head created by the intense vibration resonating in the ground and up through her body. Hyne was extended out there somewhere, waiting to catch Jormangand and Fenrir out of the deluge. They would be difficult to miss, even though monsters of every variety blanketed the sky. Already, Rinoa could feel them released from the moon's surface, freed the bounds of their natural world to plunge into another one. It made her feel sick to sense their minds.

Though she couldn't turn to look at him, she knew Squall was somewhere nearby. She suspected that Hyne had done something to him but didn't know what. When they'd landed in northern Centra, she'd blacked out and come to only in the middle of the night when Hyne had become occupied with the cry. Rinoa couldn't imagine the possibility, even accounting for the spell he was under, that Squall would have let her do this. But it was getting difficult to distinguish between his love for her and the bond that was evidently growing between sorceress and knight. She didn't want to turn her head and find that he was actually just standing there beside her, watching chaos and destruction rain down. She'd know then that she'd lost him, and right now he was all she had left.

Hyne came back to her then, covered from wing to wing in Jormangand's primordial slime.

_Why are you frightened?_

Rinoa was unavoidably reminded of being partially consumed by Adel during the last lunar cry. Would she still be clinging to reality, looking down the wrong end of her friends' weapons again when they came?

_Fenrir and Jormangand will protect us. You don't have anything to be afraid of. I'm getting stronger._

She heard something slip into the sea and something large padded by, huffing great, gurgling breaths.

_Don't worry._ Hyne's voice was shaking off some of the centuries of dust. _Even if they reach us here, they can't destroy me. There is no way to stop me anymore._


	19. Jormangand

Chapter 18: Jormangand

For the first time in his life, Jack Krier felt powerless. He had staked his presidency and the well-being of his country on defeating Hyne. He'd gone to war and sacrificed the lives of many men to wear the heavy mantle that Vascaroon had left behind. Now he felt the costume slipping, tearing away all of his achievements until he had nothing left but this legacy of failure and destruction. He knew he could not defend Galbadia from the lunar cry while still at war with Balamb Garden and Esthar.

When the cry finally sputtered and died, shifting the moon back to pale silver, everyone on the deck of the ship was left breathless. Across the water, Balamb Garden was silent and still as well. No one had moved to contact him since he'd broken off negotiations. Did they really know what had rained down on Centra's northern shore? God beasts? Krier remembered nothing about a lunar cry in the text that had been uncovered in Esthar. So either they had actually found something new in the Tomb of the Unknown King and Dollet, or they were forcing Dr. Shipey to lie. Cid Kramer was desperate to save Balamb; certainly he was desperate enough to use the cry to his advantage.

There was no way to tell.

As the glow from the cry dimmed on the horizon, so too did Krier's unfamiliar sensation of guilt and terror. In a heartbeat, he was himself again: leader, soldier, hero.

_Time to take back control._

He turned to the ship's captain who was still staring up into the heavens, an idea springing to life. "I need to make a call."

The captain snapped to attention. "Yes, sir."

They walked together back inside. "We have a ship currently heading toward Centra. I'd like to contact them. They should be on our secure frequency."

The captain sat down and sent out several pings to the ship in Centra before receiving a response.

"This is the GNS Hawkeye," a voice said over the radio. "Responding at 3:49 local time, 4:49 GMT. Security code 596 alpha tango."

Krier took a seat and responded. "This is the GNS Rolante." He provided his own security code.

There was a long pause before the man replied back. "Mr. President? We have quite a report for you, sir."

"I'm sure you do. Were you able to see the lunar cry from your position?"

"Yes, sir. We're within sight of the coast. It's crawling with monsters."

"Is the Lunatic Pandora there?"

Krier closed his eyes, not sure what he wanted the answer to be. Yes, and he would have to push further into a disastrous war with Esthar. No, and Hyne might be more powerful than he'd imagined. Neither was a reality he was willing to embrace.

"Not as far as we can tell, sir. We didn't see anything suspicious on shore before the cry, and there's nothing particularly suspicious there now. There has been no sign of the Lunatic Pandora or anyone from Esthar."

_Shit._ If Cid really was telling the truth, then things were worse than he'd even realized they could get.

"How about the cry itself?" Krier asked. "Did you notice anything strange while it was coming down?"

"Well...I think it might have agitated some of the sea life in the area. Something big went by us a few minutes ago, and the water is all stirred up, like algae from the bottom is floating to the top or something. It smells strange."

"What direction was this big thing traveling in?"

"Due north. It went almost directly underneath our bow."

"Did you get a good look at it?"

"No. It could have been a whale. All we saw was something long and dark." The man paused. "Is there something we should know?"

"No." Still keeping secrets. No point letting everyone know now the mess he'd lead them into. "I'd like you to stay in the area for the next twenty-four hours and report back with what you see. If there's nothing pressing, then continue on with your mission." They were heading to one of the locations on Shipey's list, a complex in the middle of the desert. For now, he needed their eyes and ears on the cry, but he couldn't afford to pull them away from the critical mission of uncovering Vascaroon's weapon for too long. If anything, the lunar cry had made that goal even more important.

"We are giving the coast a wide berth. There are quite a few roaming monsters we'd like to keep our distance from."

"That is acceptable. Stay safe. Thank you, Hawkeye."

Krier contemplated his next move. Something was heading toward Deling City, and he had no idea what. He hadn't been able to raise Dr. Odine in Esthar prior to the cry and wasn't sure that he'd be able to get through now. Even if he could get a signal into Esthar, he doubted Odine would even respond. But he was leaps and bounds above anyone else in his field. No one knew sorceresses, magic, and the moon better. It was worth another shot.

Krier sighed. "I'd like to try Odine again. Try his lab directly, and tell whoever answers that we have new information from Dr. Shipey."

With that bait, Odine's voice crackled over the radio in less than ten minutes. "You have information?" he demanded.

"It's a trade," Krier replied, wary. "You saw the cry?"

"It was magnificent."

"Tell me what you know about it, and tell you what I've learned from Dr. Shipey."

Odine became cagey. "Nothing. I know nothing about it. But you must tell me...vat have you learned?"

_So, you see how the balance of power has shifted?_ Krier shook his head. "Don't waste my time. I know this wasn't a normal cry. Correct?"

"Indeed." Odine liked this game. Usually, it was one Krier didn't mind playing, but Odine played for high stakes. "It was very large, for instance. It also progressed very quickly…much faster zan ze cry eighty years ago."

"Is it possible something other than monsters came down?"

"Like ze crystal pillar?"

"Like..." Krier didn't know what else to call them. "Shipey mentioned something about god beasts."

"Tell me vat you know!"

"You're the scientist. You're the one who is supposed to know all this." Krier didn't say what he wanted to: _If you hadn't double-crossed me to begin with, we'd both have all the information we need._

Odine hummed softly as he thought this over. "The cry must be caused by Hyne then, or you vouldn't be calling me. Hmm? Peculiar. Must be protection in addition to ze knight. You see, Centra iz rich in a certain kind of mineral very similar to ze makeup of ze moon. It iz a signal made by crystals zat trigger a cry. Perhaps god beasts are creatures from deep regions of ze moon. I have a theory zat zis is how guardian forces came to earth."

"Guardian forces?" The fiery demon the SeeDs had summoned in Dollet came to mind. Was that what they were up against? He paled a little at the thought.

"I vould say zat ve are in trouble." Odine sounded honest for once. "Hyne vould not summon something less zan terrible."

Krier knew the cry would have already caused mass panic in Galbadia and that he could easily rally the entire country behind him by blaming the event on Esthar. It was simple, and it would funnel more resources into the military. But the idea of these new monsters made him seriously consider Headmaster Cid's offer. Galbadia needed an ally. He'd already been burned by Odine -- perhaps Garden would prove the better option.

"Would Hyne need to actually be in Centra to call down a cry there?" He needed to know whether Garden was still allied with the sorceress. He hadn't forgotten who Cid's wife was.

Odine snorted. "Who knowz. You tell me nothing, and expect me to know zese things? Hyne is Hyne. I don't know."

Krier nodded and glanced up at the captain who had overheard everything. His bloodless face was enough to make up Krier's mind. This was a risk he couldn't afford to take. Fate would take care of the world. He was going to save Galbadia.

"I'm sure you have a lot to do there in Esthar, Dr. Odine. I won't keep you. Thank you for your assistance and pass on my regards to your president. I'm sure he would be interested in this information."

Krier didn't give Odine the opportunity to add anything further to the conversation. He had a twisted logic that was difficult to keep up with and easy to become ensnared in -- it was really best to just not allow him to speak. Who knew what the man's real motives were for pursuing Hyne. Perhaps he only wanted to harness the power for his own greedy reasons and had never really intended to destroy the first and last sorceress at all.

"All right, Captain." Krier tapped his fingers in strict rhythm, attempting to reassure himself through the certainty of the sound that he was making the right decision. "Now could you contact Headmaster Cid?"

Despite everything that had happened, Cid apparently hadn't moved from his position on Balamb Garden's bridge. His tired visage was back on Krier's video conference screen in mere moments.

"Have you made a decision?" Cid asked.

"We are cutting off pursuit of your Garden," Krier replied. "Additionally, we will be pulling our forces out of Dollet to defend Deling City."

"And Balamb?"

"Isn't even on my list of things to think about."

Cid nodded. "I will send you a force of SeeDs to help defend your city. I already have a team selected." He turned. "Irvine?"

A tall, long-haired man in a cowboy hat appeared on screen. Krier recognized him immediately, one of the select few who'd been celebrated as the team that had defeated Ultimecia. The man smiled. "Irvine Kinneas. I'll be your main SeeD contact for this operation."

Krier recognized Cid's good faith gesture and felt comforted by it: an elite team that had been hand selected even before he'd come to his decision. Maybe there was hope after all.

"I have word that_ something _is moving toward Deling," he said. "So the faster you can get your men in position, the better."

0 0 0

The look on Raijin's face when he took his first bite after three long years of a Balamb Garden doughnut sent Seifer into a rocking, gasping belly laugh. For a second, he really looked like he was going to projectile vomit across the table. Fujin even lifted up her plate as a precaution. But somehow he got it down, and after that it seemed to go easier but not all-together more pleasantly.

"Something wrong with your breakfast?" Seifer asked.

"I think..." Raijin forced down another bite. "I think maybe something got into the flour, ya know?

"Just some lunch lady's blood, sweat, and tears," Seifer replied.

Raijin ignored him. "Do you think I could make a glaze for them? I wouldn't need much. Just...ya know...some pomegranates, cinnamon, orange peel maybe. Oh! And some white wine. Do you think they'd have that?"

"White wine on a doughnut?" Seifer asked.

"Of course not," Raijin replied absently. "I was just thinking ahead to lunch and dinner, ya know?

"PANSY!"

Raijin's jaw dropped open, genuinely horrified at the insult.

"EAT!"

Renewed laughter erupted out of Seifer, bubbling up uncontrollably from his gut. He could easily imagine Raijin in a hairnet, teaching all the lunch ladies how to properly spice hot dogs or tacking wine selections for every meal onto the monthly menu rotation. The entire place would be a fucking five star restaurant in a week, and the whole student body would be fat and perpetually drunk within a year. All things considered, Seifer thought it might actually be an improvement.

"I see you're all having a lovely morning." Quistis brushed by his shoulder as she sat down at the table behind him. "Anything you'd care to share?"

Zell was with her. "It's not about _me_, is it?"

"Of course it is, Chicken Wuss. You know I never even _think _about anyone but you."

"Well, it wouldn't surprise me!" Zell shot back. "I've probably got something in my teeth, or my pants are unzipped or something. Right?"

"You're fine, Zell," Quistis said. They settled in at their table: Quistis, Zell, Dr. Shipey, and the little messenger girl from Seifer's last SeeD exam. What was her name? Most of Garden was still asleep, catching up on missed hours that had been consumed by the lunar cry late into the night, so the cafeteria was largely empty. Seifer wondered why with all the available seats they'd chosen to sit next to him.

In a good mood, Seifer dug into his breakfast and hardly noticed that his juice was a little watery and his toast was a little burnt. The messenger girl's high-pitched squeal, however, slashed the smile right off his face.

"Irvy! Over here! I got you some breakfast! Come sit with us!"

The cowboy sauntered across the cafeteria, dressed in a Galbadia Garden uniform, and turned a chair around to sit in it backwards.

"Thanks, Selphie." He took an apple fritter and a cup of coffee off the girl's tray while she soberly explained that she'd gotten him the last one after Zell had taken two.

"Long night? You look beat," Quistis said. Seifer half turned his head to listen in.

"I was up on the bridge with Cid and Xu until a few hours ago," he replied.

"Doing what?" Zell asked. "The Galbadians aren't still going to bomb Balamb, are they? After that lunar cry, you'd think they'd get it through their heads that we--"

"No. Balamb's fine. But I'm going to be leading a team to defend Deling City."

"When do you leave?" Quistis asked.

"In a few hours. Cid talked to Laguna, and he has a pilot bringing the Ragnarok by. President Krier says it's like, really urgent that we get to Deling City as soon as possible since they've already spotted something heading that way. And Laguna thinks that loaning out their ship to defend a Galbadian city might ease tensions a bit."

Quistis nodded. "He's right. It's a good idea. If the cry manages to draw everyone together, it might actually backfire on Hyne."

Seifer couldn't help but turn around in his seat and say, "Right. Saving the world with _friendship _and _love_. The SeeD way." Quistis glared at him over her shoulder but he ignored her, turning toward Irvine instead. "You think we can get out of here on that ship, too?"

"You want to go along to Deling?"

"No. Just outta Garden."

"Seifer..." Quistis lost her patience more quickly than usual. "We're going to Balamb, and from there we'll leave for Trabia. I've already discussed it with the headmaster."

He tried to hide the satisfaction he felt, afraid she might go back to ignoring him if she sensed she was giving him something he wanted.

"Yeah. _You_ decided. What happened to being a team?"

"A team. Not a democracy."

He languished in the argument, the familiar setting, and the nostalgic taste of Garden cafeteria food on his tongue. He was surprised how easily he could slip back into his old life. A week in Garden and he could walk down the hallway as if Edea, Ultimecia, and the war had never happened. He hadn't thought it would be so simple. And he hadn't thought that he'd missed being a student mercenary.

Irvine placed his empty coffee cup back on Selphie's tray and stood up. "I gotta go. We're going to be leaving any minute now."

Selphie stood up with him. Her small body was tight, her shoulders rolled forward and her hands clenched.

"I'll go, too," she said. "Someone's got to fly the Ragnarok."

"We have a pilot from Esthar."

"Yeah. Well, he's not as good as I am," she replied.

Irvine considered her offer. For a moment, Seifer thought he was going to be chivalrous and insist that she stay behind, but instead he crossed his arms and asked, "Can you be ready to go in ten minutes?"

"You bet! Booyaka!" She pumped one fist in the air.

She was a freak of nature, Seifer thought, but he had to admire her zest.

Once they left, Quistis prompted Dr. Shipey to tell Zell all about the mythology he'd uncovered. The day was still far too young for philosophy. Seifer didn't see the point in thinking or talking about things that were unprovable and inconsequential. Who cared whether Vascaroon worshipped the damn Trabian snow fairies? Zell, apparently, as he sat enraptured by Dr. Shipey's every word. Disgusted, Seifer turned back to his breakfast.

The cafeteria was beginning to fill with students by the time he was done. Some of the younger ones stopped to stare.

"This place needs some order," Seifer announced, loud enough to be sure they would hear. "It's like Cid didn't even put together a new Disciplinary Committee."

"He didn't," Quistis said. "Besides, you just sort of made it up. There hasn't been one since you left."

He felt oddly satisfied, like Garden had saved a place for him. Or, at least, they'd never been able to find someone to adequately _replace_ him.

Quistis yawned and stretched, then told Zell, "I'm headed back to my room. Want to have dinner together?"

"Sure. You, me, and the professor."

"Great. See you then."

Bored, Seifer waited for perhaps two minutes before getting up to follow her. Eventually, he found her in the hallway near her dorm room talking to Nida.

"They're pulling men out of Dollet, too. Taking them to Deling to help with the defense," he heard the other man say. Quistis's hands clapped together in front of her.

"That's great," she said. "Thanks for letting me know. Can you tell Headmaster Cid that I'd like to talk to him later?"

"Sure. I'll have him call down to your room."

As Nida walked away, Seifer swooped in.

"Happy now that your little town was saved?" he asked.

"_Your_ little town," she corrected and started toward her door again. "And yes, I am happy. I like Dollet."

He followed. "Of course you do. It's _boring_."

"I thought you were going to go lay down the law," she said, pausing to retrieve her ID from her pocket. "You know...do your Disciplinary Committee thing with Raijin and Fujin."

He shrugged. "No point. We're not staying here."

"You keep reminding me of that. Are you afraid I'm going to make you stay here? Is Garden that bad?"

He didn't really know the answer to her question, so he made no effort to reply. Garden was much the same as he remembered except that a certain simmering quality was gone now, like the volcano he'd felt rumbling underfoot as a student had finally erupted and was slumbering silently again. He thought maybe that feeling was Squall's absence. But he wasn't about to admit to missing the man. Still, as the best warrior in at least one hundred square miles, Seifer felt distinctly unengaged. And while that had been the norm in his life recently, it wasn't something he was used to feeling in this place.

Would staying in Garden be so bad? He looked down at Quistis and thought maybe not -- at least for the moment. He remembered the way she'd asked him to kiss her the night before and grinned. "I'm bigger and better than Garden," he finally said.

He moved toward her. All of this talk was killing the mood. He figured she ought to be able to sense that seeing as she liked things to be romantic. And he was leaning in, his heart pounding like a tribal drum, when she turned away and unlocked her door. It opened with a hiss and she almost slipped through before he blocked her path with his arm.

"What's your problem?"

"Nothing." She ducked under his elbow. "I've got things to do."

She was dismissing him; he recognized it well from his time as her student. And for a brief moment, he hated her again. Persistently, he followed her into her room and grabbed her by the shoulder. It was small and fragile under his hand. "Like what?"

"Like you keep pointing out, we're not staying here," she said. Her face was flushed, her cheeks hot. "And..."

"And?" he prompted, irritated.

Her mouth fell open, then snapped closed.

"I think you're afraid," he announced.

"Of you?" she scoffed. "Hardly."

"Yeah. Of _me_."

As he took a step toward her, she took one away and tried to shrug out of his grasp. But he held tight and continued to advance. She shivered and looked like she was going to say something. _Shit_. Seifer didn't want to hear it. It was going to be something logical, something lifted straight out of the damn SeeD conduct manual. So he moved his fingers from her shoulder into her hair and, gripping tight, pulled her up onto the balls of her feet.

He kissed her without any of the gentleness from the night before. Pulling hard on her hair, he bent her head back and consumed her. He bit her bottom lip, then licked and sucked the tender spot his teeth had made until she groaned from deep in her throat. She tasted sweet like flavored lip gloss and smelled fresh from her morning shower – like some sort of flower he didn't recognize.

"You can't just--" she started when he paused for a breath. But he kissed her again, holding her head steady with both hands this time. He could feel her breathing hard and under his thumbs he could feel the heavy throb of her pulse, beating as wildly as his own. Something stirred in his gut. And as her fingers clawed up his chest, then around and down his back, it melted and he was flooded with hot, aching lust.

She opened up her mouth for him, her tongue brushing his as he licked her perfect, straight teeth. Then it was a tangle, a jumble of him moving against her, her moving against him. He heard himself growl softly when she drew his shirt into her fists, pressing her knuckles against a sensitive spot between his shoulder blades until his muscles quivered.

_Oh, yes._ This was something. This was…_fuck_. He couldn't think.

He trailed kisses across her face, then bit her earlobe and licked a warm path down the hollow at the back of her jaw before making his way back to her mouth again, enjoying her weak, desperate gasps the whole way.

"Seifer…" she mumbled against his lips.

Both of his hands dropped down her arms and landed on her hips to pull her closer. He worked her shirt free from her pants and was kissing the side of her neck again when the phone rang. It was shrill and disorienting, like an alarm.

"What the _hell_ is that?"

"Oh God. It's Cid."

"Cid?"

"I told Nida to have him call me."

He held her where she was. "So ignore him."

The phone continued to ring. "I can't."

"It's easy," he replied, daring to brush his thumb under her loosened shirt and across her warm, smooth stomach. It jumped and she sucked in a breath.

"No," she said and broke free. She was stronger than she looked and much stronger than she felt. "It'll just take a second." She picked up the receiver on her plain, beige phone. "Hello?"

While she talked, he stood dumb in the middle of the room, not sure what to do. He'd never been in her dorm room before, but it looked how he'd imagined. It was small, like most dorms, and filled with the same bulk furniture. Her bed was covered in a geometric patterned blue and white quilt. And the only individual addition she'd made to the décor was a bookcase against one wall, filled with her old textbooks. There wasn't really much to see.

"Is the world ending again?" he asked when she finally hung up.

"He's too busy to see me right now," she replied. "But I made an appointment. He's got some time after the Ragnarok takes off."

Seifer sighed and forked a hand through his hair, angry all over again. He would have liked to say something foul about hoping Cid would fuck her even half as well as he would have, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words. Frustrated, he turned and walked to the door.

"Seifer…"

He paused.

"Have dinner with us later. Okay?"

"With you and Chicken Wuss? Is that supposed to be tempting?" He couldn't be called on like an obedient dog. He wasn't one of those Trepies who trembled in her presence and would jump through hoops just to spend time with her. If she couldn't even put off a pointless meeting for him, he wasn't about to withstand an hour or more of Zell for her.

He walked out, thinking that maybe reviving the Disciplinary Committee wouldn't be such a bad way to spend the day after all. But he went to his own room instead and sat down on the edge of the bed, his heart still raging.

0 0 0

Irvine ran his fingers up the length of his gun's barrel and checked the sight against the back of the Ragnarok's pilot's seat. It was a ritual he went through before every major mission, and this was the biggest one he'd had since Headmaster Martine had told him he was being sent to Deling City to assassinate Sorceress Edea. Funny, he thought, that his mother country was calling him home again.

"You'll just have to stay here on Garden." Selphie was arguing with the pilot Laguna had sent. "I'm flying this mission."

He felt a little guilty that he hadn't insisted she stay behind. What kind of man eagerly brought the love of his life into the line of fire? He couldn't blame her for being so hesitant to start a relationship with him. He was selfish. He'd wanted her to come along but knew that he couldn't ask her to -- she had a habit of denying him things he was too obvious about wanting. If he was worth his salt as a man, he would have sat her back down in the cafeteria and walked off alone. But Irvine wasn't a care-taker, and he wasn't the sort of man who ever said no. He couldn't help thinking that if he could just die next to her, then they'd still have been something together. Blood mingled on the ground in death, or life mingled in sex: it was all the same to him as far as she was concerned.

He frowned.

_A healthy person wouldn't think that._

"We'll get you back to Esthar as soon as we can," Cid apologized to the pilot. "I've even arranged a room for you." Mollified, the man allowed himself to be led away and the rest of the team joined Irvine on the bridge. There were seventeen SeeDs, plus Selphie and Xu. He only recognized one of the SeeDs, a blonde girl he'd once tried to set Zell up with. The real guest of honor, however, was President Krier. He came onboard a moment later, flanked by two naval officers and Headmaster Cid. By land and sea, the trip to Deling City was longer than the entire battle would probably take, so Cid had extended an invitation to the President to accompany their team.

He looked reluctantly impressed. "This is the Ragnarok?"

"Yep!" Selphie skipped past him to take her place at the pilot's seat, something which clearly gave him pause.

"You're sure she's fully qualified?" Krier whispered to Cid.

"She's one of the best pilots in the world. You'll all arrive safely." Cid smiled and turned to Xu. "Check in with us regularly. I want to know what's happening. Are you all fully equipped? Is there anything you need?"

"I checked everyone," Irvine replied. "We're ready."

Cid said his goodbyes, then made sure the President was seated and comfortable before he left. Selphie saluted to his reflection in the Ragnarok's windshield before setting to work. Her hands worked over the controls with deft confidence, not hesitating at foreign words or blinking lights. Irvine loved to watch her fly. He walked to stand at her shoulder and looked outside through the heat waves rising from the idling engines.

"Hold on back there! We're off!"

The Ragnarok shot into the sky, launching off its unnatural perch in the quad. Krier grunted and gripped the arms of his chair, a dusting of anxiety across his stern, chiseled features.

"One way to Deling City." Selphie turned on the autopilot as Garden sank into the distance. "We'll be there in a few hours."

"That soon?" Krier was surprised.

"You're on a rocket ship, sir," Irvine reminded him. "We'll get there way before anything else does."

For most of the flight, everyone was quiet. Xu talked briefly with President Krier, telling him about SeeD procedures and describing the battle formations she and Irvine had discussed the night before. By the time they crossed into Galbadian air space, everyone was at ease.

The first sign of trouble came twenty minutes outside of Deling City.

"Wow! Look at that!" Selphie leaned over the controls to look out the windows. Beneath them, the sea was lurid green with strings of color spreading out in long, wispy fingers like someone had spilled paint in the water.

"My men in Centra reported something was strange about the water there," Krier said.

The Galbadian army was already in position outside of the city, and when they landed a group of men and trucks quickly surrounded them. They were wearing gas masks over their uniforms instead of standard helmets.Irvine realized why the moment their doors opened, letting a pungent gust of air laced with something like ammonia. Krier had to stop and gag on his way down the ramp while everyone else paused to cast protective shell magic, which dampened the odor just enough to keep their senses from recoiling.

"Sir?" A Galbadian general jogged up to them, his voice muffled by his mask. "Are these...?"

"Our SeeD backup from Balamb Garden." Krier made a short introduction of the team, and then got down to business. "Is there any news?"

"None yet. We've got the city in complete lock-down and everyone that we could we have evacuated."

"Good." Krier coughed. "Would someone get me a damn gas mask already?"

Irvine turned to his own team

"Let's get down to the beach," he said. "Selphie, I'd like you to stay in the air and try to give us some advance warning. Take Xu with you."

Selphie saluted, her hand snapping in front of her eye with sharp pride. He wished he could pull her close and kiss her, but it wasn't exactly the right time. Soon the Ragnorak was back in the air, flying a holding pattern over the waves, and Irvine and his team were approaching the beach.

The smell increased the closer they got to the water, the ammonia scent mixing with something sharper and more nauseating. Up and down the entire length of the beach, green waves were washing up dead fish. Fasticalons were gorging themselves, their orange fins peeking above the sand and zipping between the soggy, rotten remains of everything from flounder to sea bass.

"Ugh." One of Irvine's SeeDs stopped beside him. "This is sick."

"The water is probably poisonous," Irvine replied. "Stay away from it if you can, and adjust your junctions accordingly."

Junctions shuffled, they waited, eyes to the horizon searching for any sign of the coming doom. Above them, the Ragnarok sliced through the bright, sunny sky.

Irvine turned to look at the Galbadians who were forming their own defensive line further up the beach. Krier was not with them – probably back in the safety of his mansion.

They waited.

And then Xu raised the alarm.

"We see something heading your way," she announced over Irvine's com. "It's big. Swimming. Looks like you're right in line with it if it beaches."

"What is it?" Irvine asked.

"Unable to tell." He saw the Ragnarok veer out to sea. "Serpent-like, I think. Selphie! Fire at it...see if you can get it to raise its head!"

The Ragnarok banked, sun glinting off its wings, and Irvine saw twin plasma blasts fire out of the ship's forward cannons into the rolling waves. At once, a massive head broke through the water and snapped at the Ragnarok, which nimbly slipped away. Everyone on the beach stared, open-mouthed, as the monster crashed back into the ocean in a massive, emerald tidal wave.

"My god." Xu's voice was uncharacteristically breathless. "Did you see that?"

Irvine didn't have the opportunity to respond.

"It's coming your way!"

A massive snake crashed suddenly ashore, slithering across the rotting bodies of fish, and hissed. Up close, Irvine could see why ancient people had called this a god beast. It was so heavy that its belly worked a trough in the sand as yard after yard of snake came ashore, a tail end twisting and thrashing somewhere further out. It was black, or maybe dark green, with bulbous, silver eyes that were like drops of mercury. And it didn't even flinch when the first barrage of Galbadian gunfire tore across the sand, glancing off its hard scales. The monster just shook off a few loose bits of hide then lunged lightning quick at a group of Galbadian men and tossed them into the surf with one swing of its head.

The Galbadians were clearly over-matched.

"Come on! Get in there!" Irvine commanded.

He loaded a round of pulse ammo and fired right as the snake slouched, ready to make another strike at the Galbadians. The high-powered bullet hit the beast on the side of its broad head, whipping it sideways and blowing off a plume of noxious snot and scale. It looked surprised when it swung in Irvine's direction and even retreated a few feet back into the water as the rest of the SeeDs launched themselves into battle.

Fire, thunder, and snow rained down in a frenzy of uncoordinated attacks. Irvine fired one more shot before joining the fray. The beach was treacherous, and he could feel the heavy poison in the humid air glancing off the magical shell encircling him. Every waft of sour air, super-heated by lightning and fire magic made him want to retch.

The Ragnarok made another pass overhead, leveling another round of fire directly at the god beast. Irvine caught a glimpse of Selphie through the windshield right before he ducked for cover -- she had one hand punched in the air, triumphant. The blasts disoriented the monster. Unfortunately, they also scattered the entire offensive force, leaving Irvine literally in the line of fire. He had to drop back into the sand as a flare spell flew over him like a comet. While he was down someone ran by him. Somewhere, someone else shouted in pain.

He got to his feet and took a look around.

Even under intense fire, the god beast didn't appear to be weakening. Dinner-plate sized scales were splintering with every bullet and every spell, but in between hits it would scoop up even more men from the Galbadian line. Irvine's own men were largely untouched but engaged in a chaotic melee. He saw one SeeD stumble, poisoned when her junctions gave out. Irvine cast an esuna across the sand at her and then waved her in. They needed to re-group, come at the snake with coordinated force.

"Everyone back!" he yelled. "Back to me!"

He only had one guardian force junctioned, Tonberry, and doubted the guardian would be able to do any significant damage, but he'd give them enough cover to pull together. Irvine dropped back into his mind and called him.

Tonberry was reluctant to come forward, sluggish to respond. And when the guardian did finally manifest on the battlefield, he did so with his lamp half-hidden under the folds of his robe and his chef's knife held low at his side. He twitched his forked tail and turned his stocky body halfway around to peek over his shoulder before taking a step toward the snake. Irvine had never seen a guardian force so hesitant before.

The god beast didn't immediately notice Tonberry waddling across the beach since the spray rising off its own writhing body provided such excellent ground cover. Tonberry stopped a few feet from the serpent's belly, brought out his lantern, and was swiveling his knife when the monster came to attention, its silver eyes darting quickly down. It opened its mouth, all black inside, and hissed. The sound was like steam escaping a boiler: fundamentally powerful and dangerous. Irvine shuddered involuntarily and wished that Selphie were beside him rather than up in the Ragnarok. Tonberry was affected as well and tried to slip back into Irvine's unconscious.

Hopelessly stuck in reality, Tonberry's yellow eyes bulged and he attacked. His ethereal blade cut through the god beast's scales and sunk into writhing, dark flesh up to the hilt.

Irvine was calling his guardian force back when the god beast scooped Tonberry up. Sand sluiced out of its mouth in twin falls and he spotted Tonberry's tiny lantern fall to the ground and shatter, its light extinguished by the waves, as the monster paused and swallowed.

Irvine froze. And then, like a sledgehammer, weariness and exhaustion hit him. He stumbled, dropping his rifle.

"Whoa!" Someone caught him by the shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Irvine saw whirling sky, the Ragnarok speeding overhead, and then swift shadow. He could only hold onto the woman next to him for support as the snake bowled through the Galbadians and raced toward Deling City.

"Irvy! Irvy!" Selphie's tinny voice was yelling over his com. "What's going on? What happened?"

Xu was there, too. "Why aren't you following it?"

He struggled to find his equilibrium again. All of his junctions were gone. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been completely devoid of a guardian force in his brain. His heavy, awkward body didn't feel like his own.

"Selphie. That thing...I think it just _killed_ my GF."

The Galbadians were unconcerned about Tonberry's fate and were running after the god beast now. But all of the SeeDs remained on the beach, touched by fear.

"It's..._dead_?"

He nodded.

_We underestimated this thing._

"It just reached the city!" Xu's voice announced. "Regardless of what's happened, you guys have got to get in there! We'll provide you cover fire!"

Unjunctioned, Irvine trailed after the stronger, faster others, feeling incomplete and useless. Alone, he struggled across the grass. His lungs burned. His muscles ached.

The Ragnarok was flying over the city, laying down a heavy barrage of fire. Gunshots and explosions echoed across the asphalt streets. Blood and slime were everywhere -- both dark snake's blood and red human blood. The epicenter of the battle wasn't difficult to find.

Wrapped around one of Deling City's famous arches, the very same one Edea had once been trapped inside, the god beast was making a stand. And it was taking a hard barrage of magic. Meteor. Holy. Even ultima. A stress fracture ripped through the arch. A chunk of sizzling rebar whipped past Irvine's head and ricocheted off the fading effects of his defensive spells.

Shit. He couldn't even cast!

He loaded his strongest ammo into Exeter and pressed a solid kiss to its warm sight. Nothing left now but skill.

From well behind the main line of SeeDs and soldiers, he leveled his weapon, aimed, and fired. The recoil surprised him. Had Exeter always packed such a punch? There were going to be bruises in the morning. Even so, fortune was with him. The round found its way directly to the snake's open maw, tearing a long, pink gash across the roof of its mouth.

"Hit it where it hurts, men!" Krier ran by. "Hit it hard! Hit it fast! Take down the whole goddamned arch if you have to!"

Irvine reloaded and swept hair out of his face while the Galbadians volleyed everything they had at the beast. It was showing signs of wear now, bleeding all over the street, hissing with more ferocity, blank silver eyes bulging as if they might burst from the pressure within. Distantly, Irvine wondered if this was the norm on the moon. Was it just scale rubbing against scale up there?

He got off another good shot, and the Ragnarok screamed by to do even more damage, this time blowing off a chunk of tail that flew end over end through the air and landed on Caraway's lawn. The monster went slack for a moment and slid down the arch, a black tongue lolling out from between its fangs.

"Now!" Krier bellowed. "Kill it!"

The soldiers didn't respond to his order, but the SeeDs did. The woman who'd caught Irvine when he swooned blasted a fire spell directly into the snake's face, burning one of its eyes. Another hit it with a yellow arc of lightning, making the beast convulse pitifully, blood squeezing out its shorn off end.

Dizzy, Irvine bent over and retched, puking amongst the slime, scales, and carnage. Bent double, he almost missed the death blow, delivered from a Galbadian canon to the back of its head. One last time, it hissed, and then collapsed.

Dead.

Irvine held back a dry heave, more affected now by the smell and the poison since his magic had worn off. He could feel it wearing away at his mind, robbing him of what little strength he had.

"Irvine? Hold on."

Something soothing and blue pulsed around him and the nausea abated, replaced by a warm, soothing sensation. Esuna. _Ah, yes_. He took a breath of air and managed for the first time to take a good look around.

He'd lost two people. Maybe on the beach, maybe in Deling City -- he wasn't sure. The Galbadians had lost more, including the arch. But Krier looked satisfied. Happy even.

0 0 0

Rinoa felt Jormangand's death like a blow to the heart, and for a moment she had a terrible vision of the battle through the beast's burning eyes. It rocked her. Deling City was home in many ways: she'd grown up there, her father still lived there, and it was the only place that contained memories of her mother. She'd never wanted to see Galbadia's capital destroyed, even in the height of her revolutionary fervor. Still, it was Jormangand's fate, not the city's, that made tears spring up in her eyes.

Something in her -- maybe Hyne -- mourned him and his painful death.

Despite his utter lack of social grace, Squall had come to know Rinoa's moods. He noticed immediately that something was wrong: "What is it?"

"Nothing."

They were setting up camp for the night in an old Centran ruin, the husk of what had once been a bath. They were going to sleep under the stars there together. Squall already had a campfire going, although the sun hadn't quite finished setting. The acrid smoke stung Rinoa's eyes, making her tears worse.

"Are you scared or something?"

"No. I'm fine. Really." Hyne brushed by, almost a solid, physical presence now -- one that, at the moment, was bitter with grief.

_Fenrir!_

The giant wolf was lying on his side next to the fire, savoring the heat after lifetimes spent next to the hot, inner core of the moon. At Hyne's call, he bolted to his feet, like a soldier.

Squall couldn't help but notice. "What's up with Angelo?" he asked.

Rinoa felt herself approach the wolf, felt her hands sink wrist deep into his fur. Intense, yellow eyes regarded her.

_Your brother is gone_, Hyne told him.

Nothing more needed to be said. Fenrir understood the message. And then, he did something unexpected. Huge and heavy, he curled his body around her and rumbled, a delicate, devoted little sound. Rinoa wasn't sure what it meant. Was he comforting her? Was there some sort of genuine love between Hyne and these two monsters from the moon? She wondered if Fenrir sensed that he was going to his death -- she was sure that was his fate, determined by his god, and wondered if he was content to go to it.

Rinoa knew Hyne was getting stronger. It was just a matter of time before Hyne would be entirely dominant and she would slip into nothing forever. With every breath, she drew in more of the sorceress power. With every passing second, wings and scales and blackness resolved into a clearer picture. Rinoa felt faded. And she knew that on the outside, she was changing, though she couldn't see herself well enough to see how.

From between Fenrir's massive paws, she saw Squall gazing at them over the fire, a puzzled expression on his face.

If only he'd see what was sitting in front of him. He could put it all to an end. She'd always said that when the time came, it would be okay, as long as it was _him_.

"Where's Angelo going?" he asked and turned his head to watch Fenrir move into an easy, long-strided lope out toward the desert.

"She's just playing."

He opened his arms, and she slipped across the old flagstone to him.

"Did your dad ever take you camping?" he asked, apparently content with her explanation.

"Never."

A sweet, nostalgic smile cropped up on his face. Fenrir was long gone now, moving east into the darkness of his destiny, and Squall seemed more at ease without the wolf's presence. It must have picked at his muddled brain, the spell telling him it was Angelo, all his senses screaming otherwise.

"We used to make campfires on the beach at the orphanage." He blushed a little. "I always liked that the best. Being alone in the dark, but comfortable...safe. Know what I mean?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I know."

He'd snap out of it soon. Hyne would get tired of dazzling him after all the magic in the world was sucked up and then the scales would fall from his eyes. Rinoa knew Squall; he'd save the world. She wouldn't have fallen in love with him if he'd been any other sort of man. Jormangand had been defeated. Fenrir probably would be eventually as well. And so would Hyne.

Hyne. Rinoa.

She wasn't entirely sure where the division was anymore.

She put her head against Squall's shoulder and closed her eyes. She listened to the crackling fire, to his easy breaths. It was heaven for now, a soothing balm for the sorrow she still felt for Jormangand.


	20. Detente

A/N: I appologize for the slower than usual updating lately. I'm currently in the process of moving, plus I've been putting in overtime at work. So time has been limited. But things should pick up again soon.

Chapter 19: Detente

The stench hanging over Deling City began to lift the next day, and with a strong afternoon breeze it quickly dispersed. The god beast's body was dragged out of the city and back to the beach where birds and bugs devoured it until only a heap of white bone was left. Irvine checked on the site frequently, wondering whether Tonberry would eventually show up. He imagined the guardian emerging unharmed from the monster's gut, disheveled and triumphant. But every time, the beach was empty.

Under Cid's orders, he remained in Deling City with his team where Krier had invited them to stay in the presidential mansion. It was a nice perk, but Irvine suspected Krier's motives were less to reward them than to keep them under his watchful eye. Even as allies, Krier wasn't shy about expressing his doubts: Rinoa was their friend; she was Squall Leonheart's lover; and, therefore, all of Garden was suspect.

As citizens began to trickle back into town, Irvine instructed his SeeDs to help clean up the four blocks the army had roped off in the middle of town where hazardous debris from the fallen arch was mixed with unexploded artillery shells. It was good press. And Irvine knew Krier wasn't going to go out of his way to remind people that Garden had come to Galbadia's defense.

The work was meticulous and difficult. Without a guardian force, Irvine still felt weak and often took a step back when the work became too physical or exhausting. Thankfully, he didn't have to labor long before the swift moving peace negotiations between Laguna and Krier came to a conclusion and Cid called them home. On their last day in Deling City, he stood in the middle of the destruction next to Xu, her arm still in a cast, and tried to look useful.

"Hey. Are you okay?" Selphie asked him as she passed, holding the head of a statue effortlessly in her delicate arms. "You look a little peaked."

"I'm fine."

She tossed the head into the back of a dump truck and dusted off her hands. "You want to junction with my GF for a while?"

Irvine couldn't help but laugh. "Baby...you don't even have to _ask._"

"Oh God. Give me a break," Xu grumbled and walked away. Irvine glared after her, glad to see her go. He liked having her along; she was a top SeeD who inspired excellence in everyone around her. But he could only handle so many days in her company.

"I heard Sir Laguna might fly out here," Selphie said, drawing his attention back.

"Yeah? Where'd you hear that?"

"Some of the Galbadians have been talking about it. And, you know, I'm glad to be heading back to Garden tomorrow, but I kinda wish that we could hang around and see Sir Laguna, too! It feels like it's been ages since we last saw him in Balamb." Irvine trailed after her as she got back to work. She looked out of place in her short, black skirt with neon yellow knee socks peeking over the tops of her high boots. "Maybe he'll stop in Balamb to pick up the Ragnarok on his way back. You think?" She giggled, soft and light like wind chimes.

"Maybe." Irvine wasn't interested in watching Selphie fawn over another man, so he changed the subject. "Since it's our last night here and all, you wanna hit the town when we're done? The restaurants and the clubs are starting to re-open now and we should enjoy it while we can." He'd spent a few summers in Deling City as a cadet and smiled now remembering them. He wanted to share that feeling with Selphie.

"Sure! I think this is the first time I've been here when I wasn't going to kill someone," she replied in a disconcerting way, as if traveling the world to murder people for money was normal.

In the late afternoon, a Galbadian team came and took over the job. Irvine looped his arm through Selphie's and escorted her back to the mansion. They showered and changed before heading out together again. Irvine pushed his cowboy hat down on top of her head while they waited for a trolley to take them downtown. It was a possessive gesture that she frequently mistook for playfulness. He let her believe what she wanted because the message the hat sent wasn't for her, and he knew other men who saw it would understand -- she belonged to him.

He bought her dinner in one of the only open restaurants. The service was terrible, but the food was passably good. Irvine left a generous tip anyway. Other men had gone into battle with him against the god beast to never return. And here he had everything he needed. Smiling across the table at Selphie, he felt grateful.

"What do you say?" he said as they left the restaurant. "Should we hit the bars? The clubs? I bet they're both crazy right now."

"I'd rather just go back," Selphie said, surprising him. She was always the first person to throw a party for any occasion. Since when had she become an advocate of the quiet life?

"I can't go by myself." _What would the point be in that? _"Come on. We've been working all day. Dinner was great, let's keep the momentum going. This is our last chance to get out before we're stuck back in Balamb."

She didn't look swayed.

"Is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing."

Her answer had been too quick. Irvine knew women well enough to recognize when _nothing_ meant _something_, but he couldn't think of anything she could be upset about. Their evening was going perfectly. It was the best date he'd been on in years. He didn't want it to end yet.

"I'll buy all your drinks," he offered. "And we'll go somewhere with dancing and music. Yeah? I'll dance with you."

That would cheer her up. She loved to dance.

"Well," she drawled long and slow. "Okay. I guess."

"Great! Come on."

Most of Deling City's clubs were still closed with evacuation notices taped to their windows and doors. The few that were open were on the seedier side of town, the side that had never been completely abandoned because the people there didn't have anywhere else to go. Eventually, Irvine managed to find what he considered to be the best of the worst and led Selphie inside. The whole building was made out of dark, bare wood and the walls were covered in tacky knickknacks like Anacondour Liquor clocks shaped like circular saw blades and novelty signs featuring women in nothing but chaps and cowboy hats riding bareback on cartoon chocobos.

The music was low and no one else was dancing, but Selphie didn't seem to mind. She jogged out to the middle of the dance floor and waited for him with a wide grin. He found her confident individuality alluring and rushed into her arms like an overeager puppy.

"It's not a slow song, Irvy." She chuckled and pushed him away, then clasped his hands and began gyrating her tiny hips in time with the music.

Real, informal dancing was something Irvine had never gotten the hang of. He'd excelled in the ballroom classes he'd taken at Garden and could do a foxtrot or waltz with the best of them, but making up something of his own to the often arrhythmic harmony of modern music wasn't among his skills. He tried his best anyway, enjoyed the way Selphie laughed at him when he got it wrong, and melted when she got the look on her face that told him he'd gotten it right.

When a slow song did come on, he pulled her close. This he knew how to do. Slow dancing was seduction standing up. And he was an expert.

"You did some amazing flying the other day," he said.

She blushed. "I told you I was good."

"Good. Yes." He buried his nose in her hair. "That pilot from Esthar never would have been able to handle those low maneuvers."

"Xu did the shooting."

"Pressing a button. Nothing to brag about. But you're a hero. And...mmm..." he smiled. "And you're beautiful tonight."

"Just tonight?"

"Every night. Every day. Always." He kissed her so that her lips trembled and parted just how he wanted them to. Kissing wasn't unusual for them. It was familiar and comfortable, often more friendly than purely sexual. But tonight he wanted her to understand that he was serious. He didn't want to be friends. He wanted more. So he probed gently at her lips with his tongue, asking for greater intimacy, more trust.

For a second, he thought she was going to relax and give herself to him. But the second he tried to deepen their kiss, she pulled away, her green eyes bright with alarm.

Frustration squeezed his heart. "Why do you do that?" he asked more sharply than he'd intended, unable to hide his impatience. "Why do you push me away?"

Her lips squeezed together like they were holding back to the words.

"I'm sorry." She sounded so sincere that what she had to say next broke Irvine's heart. "I just can't trust you, Irvy."

0 0 0

Quistis couldn't find Zell anywhere. She'd searched all of his usual haunts -- the cafeteria, the library, the training center -- but couldn't find any trace of him. They only arrived in Balamb the night before. Dust was still settling outside, and already he was gone. She shouldn't have been surprised; Zell had a mysterious sixth sense that allowed him to get on and off Garden at nearly every stop without a hitch. Excepting the incident in Trabia, he'd only been left behind once in the past two and a half years. Quistis stopped in front of the directory and sighed. He was probably already sitting in his mother's kitchen, entertaining his family with stories of the Dollet underground.

She paced. Then, for lack of anything else to do, rode the elevator up to the headmaster's office. Though she didn't have an appointment, his secretary waved her by. Cid glanced up from his work when she entered.

"Sit down, Quistis. I'll be with you in a second."

She did.

"I've been talking to Laguna," he announced as he finished something and pushed it aside. "Looks like we're all going to be working together from here on out. Krier dispatched men to all of the locations on Shipey's list after you broke him out in Galbadia. And I've transmitted our translations to Dr. Odine in Esthar for review. Plus, Laguna intends to let us retain the Ragnarok for the time being."

"I suppose that's good news."

"Communication has been patchy to the Galbadian teams in Centra and Trabia since the locations are so remote. But Krier says they're both going to be setting up campsites, and he'll alert them to your arrival."

"We'll be heading out as soon as I find Zell," Quistis replied.

"Are you taking Seifer, Fujin, and Raijin?"

She nodded, though she wasn't sure. She hadn't seen Seifer since he'd left her dorm room, which was probably for the best but aggravated her as well. She sank back in her chair and watched Cid shuffle his papers. Next to Dr. Kadowaki and Dr. Shipey, both of whom she'd already inconvenienced enough, he was the only person she could find to talk to. Garden was lonely without her friends.

Cid smiled kindly at her and said, "Irvine's team should be back soon."

"Oh." Quistis didn't know what else to say.

"And I'm sure Zell will be back from visiting his mother soon," Cid continued.

Quistis nodded, the subject of Ma Dincht bringing to mind the photograph of Helena Selune Quistis was still carrying smuggled in her duffel bag. She'd pulled it out that morning and set it on her desk next to her ID, comparing and contrasting their faces. But she didn't know enough people with biological parents to judge whether the similarities meant anything. How much did women actually look like their mothers anyway?

"Is something the matter?" Cid asked.

"I guess I'm just bored," Quistis replied. Then, hesitantly, she added, "And curious about how I was orphaned."

Cid's gaze turned sharp. They didn't often talk about their shared past.

"I'm actually not sure," he admitted slowly. "Edea was the one who took you in. You were our first. Did you know? We got you, and then Squall and Ellone. I was gone, purchasing the house in Centra actually, and Edea never told me too much about it. I assumed you were dropped off by someone. Same as Squall."

"From Winhill?"

"Who knows?" He shrugged. "We lived around Obel Lake at the time. You might have come from somewhere nearby. All you kids came to us pretty young, without much of a history. Just babies. Well, except for Ellone and Seifer."

"Seifer?" Quistis tried to sound casual.

"He was three or four. I can't remember exactly. A toddler anyway. And a handful, like now." Cid leaned back in his chair. "I don't think he remembers anything from before Garden. But he's from Esthar. His parents worked for Adel. Wealthy people. They were eventually tried and executed after the revolution. After Laguna came along, it wasn't easy to be part of the old regime."

Funny, Quistis thought. Seifer came by his sorceress's lapdog profession naturally. It was in his veins.

"I asked you once about his childhood. Do you remember? I thought maybe it was something tragic."

"It was the opposite. He had everything he ever wanted. It wasn't an easy adjustment for him coming to live with us in that small house," Cid said. "But you took to it right away. You were tough. Independent. Like now."

Quistis felt her cheeks warm with a blush. "I don't know why I'm asking. Maybe it's thinking about losing Squall. Or thinking about Zell and his mom. And with Garden so empty..."

"I understand." Cid pushed a folder across his desk toward her. "If you'd like, I could really use your help here."

Quistis helped the headmaster put together a new faculty schedule, reading aloud points from each instructor's most recent peer review as Cid tried to place each one with classes and students that suited their strengths. The two were more comfortable working together as professionals. She knew she'd crossed some kind of line by asking him personal questions about her childhood. Edea was the one who liked to reminisce, always living her life in dreams of the past, while Cid was firmly planted in the future and probably unable to think of the men and women he sent away on missions every day as his children.

They were comfortably debating the merits of an instructor who Quistis thought should be dismissed permanently when the secretary peeked through the open doorway.

"The Ragnarok just landed," she said.

Cid glanced at Quistis, who had lifted off her seat at the news. "You go," he suggested. "And bring Irvine, Selphie, and Xu back here so that we can get your team out before nightfall."

Quistis nodded and excused herself. On the first floor, she pushed past students rushing to their next class. They parted easily for her with a reverence that she'd long ago grown to take for granted. Outside, the Balamb sun was hot and high in the sky, the cry of seagulls riding along the breeze from the shore. And the Ragnarok sat in the grass, casting light like fireflies off its red paneled exterior. In the pilot's seat, she could see Selphie's distinctive shadow. Quistis stopped between the stone gargoyles at Garden's front gate and waited to greet them.

"IMPRESSIVE!"

"Yeah, it looks bigger than I remember, ya know?"

"When did you ever see it?" Seifer asked as he came up behind her with his posse.

"On the Lunatic Pandora," Raijin replied. "They crashed into us, remember?"

Seifer leaned against one of the gargoyles and crossed his arms. "No. I don't." He glanced at Quistis. "You hear yet how many of them are dead?"

She had heard but didn't think that his question merited an answer. Death was good gossip in Garden. Students talked flippantly about old classmates who'd been eaten alive by t-rexaurs. As an instructor, she hadn't discouraged the practice knowing that being a mercenary required emotional distance. But now she felt disturbed. Maybe being in the field with the same people so long had made her soft. Or maybe it was knowing that most of the people likely to die on this mission were life-long friends that made Seifer's comment turn her stomach.

"We're going to be leaving soon," she said to him. "So you should go gather your things."

"What things? I've been ready to go since we got here." He didn't look at her as he spoke. _Spoiled brat_, she thought, remembering what Cid had told her about his childhood. Even if he didn't remember it, growing up privileged had certainly made a mark on him. She was surprised she hadn't thought of it before.

The Ragnarok's door opened and Irvine emerged, his hat pulled low over his eyes to shield them against the sun's glare. He spotted Quistis and walked up to her, his face unusually pale.

"Glad you're back," she told him and smiled. It was as close as they would get to embracing.

"Yeah. Did Cid tell you what happened?" he asked.

"You mean about Tonberry? Yeah. Dr. Odine is working on it," she replied. "We got your whole report. But Cid would still like to debrief you, Selphie, and Xu."

"What the hell is Tonberry?" Seifer asked. "And Dr. Odine? You guys trust that freak?"

They'd kept quiet about the death of Irvine's guardian force. It had only ever happened once before, on board the Lunatic Pandora, and that incident had been kept secret as well.

"Hey, Quisty!" Selphie hugged her, driving an _oomph_ out of Quistis' lungs. Xu was content to simply wave.

Quistis blushed and set Selphie aside. "Let's all get going. We're going to have to hurry if we want to make good time to Trabia. That includes you, Seifer."

"Trabia?" Irvine said as they started inside together. "You might want to head to Centra first, if you're going to one of Dr. Shipey's sites. We were staying in the Presidential mansion in Deling, and Krier's got men stationed at all those places. Last I heard, they were having one hell of a snowstorm in Trabia. Whiteout conditions and everything. I'm not sure that the Galbadians have even reached the place yet. Somewhere up in the mountains, right? That's what I heard Krier saying, anyway."

Quistis didn't know where it was, so she shrugged. "How's Centra looking then?"

"Yeah," Seifer said, seemingly determined to be part of the conversation. "Last _I_ heard, a whole fucking shit ton of monsters were raining down out of the sky there. Which, you know, is so much better than a little bit of snow."

"I guess the place is further east than the cry," Irvine replied. "More toward Esthar in the desert. We heard that they've started setting up camp there, at least."

"Plus, doesn't it make more sense that you might find something in Centra?" Xu said.

Quistis kept an eye out for Zell but didn't see any sign of him as they all squeezed uncomfortably into the elevator. Xu said she would take the stairs and vanished around the corner. In the silent ride up to the headmaster's office, Quistis stood next to Irvine and Selphie stayed on the other side, standing wedged between Raijin and Fujin, her green eyes cast toward the floor. Something must have happened between them, Quistis decided. And she had a good idea what it was. She sighed and hoped they wouldn't make her get involved.

Their meeting with Cid followed much the same path as their previous discussion, settling on Centra as a more realistic immediate target for exploration than Trabia. It was another in a long line of defeats for Quistis, though she noticed that Seifer didn't jump in to point that out. Zell finally showed up twenty minutes in, a speck of dark chocolate above his lip from what Quistis assumed were fresh baked cookies. Bitterly, she entertained the idea of leaving him behind.

"About time you showed up, Wuss," Seifer said, but fell quiet and lost some of his cheek when Irvine related how the god beast had killed Tonberry.

"The Galbadians are working with us for now," Cid said. "I think we all see that we have to deal with Hyne first. You should be able to trust them that far, although I wouldn't let them know you've found the weapon if you come across it. Relay that information here first. Dr. Shipey and Dr. Odine have been talking to one another trying to work out what we can expect. We'll try to keep the information moving. And Laguna is more than willing to help us out however he can. So if you need anything, you can contact him as well."

"I can fly the Ragnarok," Selphie offered.

"Right. I'd like you and Irvine to go along to Centra. Xu, I'm going to need you here." She stepped back toward the wall. "Leave as soon as you can. We'll keep in touch."

Quistis stood up. "You can all meet me at the Ragnarok in three hours."

She expected Seifer to hang back from the rest of the group as they left to talk to her, but he didn't. A shiver of loneliness brushed over her again. Things were finally looking up in the world -- she wasn't sure why she still felt ill at ease.

0 0 0

Laguna was dreaming when his assistant, Sam, walked into his bedroom and turned on the bedside reading lamp. Startled out of vague images of Winhill and flowers, he gasped. He didn't remember going to bed and couldn't recall how long he'd been asleep.

"Sorry to wake you, sir," Sam said. "But we have an emergency."

"What kind of emergency?" Laguna pulled the covers up to his chin and looked around for some sign of what time it was, but Sam was standing between the bed and his clock.

"A potential security threat. You need to get up."

"Can't it wait until morning?"

"No. Trust me. This really needs to be dealt with now."

Laguna sighed and tried to drive away the fuzzy sleep still clouding his mind. "Okay. I'll be there in a few minutes. Just...give me a second."

"We'll wait for you in your office."

Sam walked out, and Laguna rolled over to look at his clock. Only eleven o'clock. He'd been asleep for maybe an hour, an hour and a half. When he was younger, Laguna had liked to stay up late and sleep until mid-afternoon. But as he got older, the hour that he went to bed at had pushed earlier and earlier. Especially now, spending every waking moment worrying about Squall, he was exhausted. And he didn't appreciate the unexpected wake-up call. The sooner he could get back to bed and return to the soft dreams he'd been having the better. He pulled on a blue terrycloth robe over top of his boxers, tied it tight at the waist, and put on a clashing pair of red slippers before leaving.

In his office, he found four of his advisors plus one of the army generals and someone he didn't recognize.

"So, what's going on?" he asked and sat down at his desk. His knee popped out between the folds in his robe and quickly began to grow cold.

"There have been what seem to be a series of coordinated attacks against the exterior fence," Sam announced.

"Coordinated?"

"It's not unusual to get a few hits now and then," the man Laguna didn't recognize said, probably some kind of scientist. "Animals, things blowing into it, that kind of thing. But we've had four strong hits in the past hour, all in the same general location. It looks like something out there is testing the wall. Maybe looking for a way through."

"Where at?"

"In the salt flats."

Laguna paused, then asked, "And is there a way through?"

No one answered for a moment. Then, finally, the general said, "Yes. A few, actually. It's a big wall. We don't have the power to keep all of it up simultaneously. And there are...glitchy patches."

"Glitchy?"

"The system has been degrading due to lack of maintenance over the years," the scientist explained. "We've been working to repair it, but more and more of the main systems are wearing out. And we can't keep up with it. So there are some areas where it flashes on and off. You may remember, Squall Leonhart and some of his SeeDs got into the city through such a glitch a few years ago."

"Right. From the Salt Flats."

Sam nodded. "If there is something out there, trying to get in, then it's only a matter of time before a section of the wall goes down and it _does_ get in."

"Do we even know what this something is? It could just be a confused abadon. Why don't you go out there and have a look?"

"I did send some men," the general replied. "And all they reported seeing was something that looked like a dog. But big. Dr. Odine thinks that it might be one of those god beasts, like what attacked Deling City."

Laguna wasn't surprised that somehow Dr. Odine already knew of this event. He was by far the biggest obstacle Laguna had faced during his presidency, always interfering and somehow always aware of even the smallest stirrings. He didn't doubt that people from the scientist's lab, and probably Odine himself, were already standing out in the darkened plains, waiting to catch a glimpse of a mythical monster from the moon.

Not entirely sure why anyone was even consulting him about this, Laguna leaned back in his chair. "What is it that you're suggesting we do?" he asked the group at large.

"In Galbadia, they had the aid of Balamb Garden SeeDs to fend off the beast," Sam said. "It's only fair that they come to help us as well."

Laguna was hesitant. He knew that Garden was already busy and was confident that Esthar's army was more than capable of taking care of a big dog, especially if fending the god beast off for the time being was just a matter of getting some overdue maintenance done.

"Let me put it this way for you, sir," the general began. "In Galbadia, they fought off something that was direct. It came ashore right where they were waiting for it and engaged them immediately. Whatever we have is different. There hasn't been any direct confrontation and I doubt there will be until it's through that barrier and in the city. And it's not just the salt flats that we have to watch...the entire system is weak. We're going to need more manpower, or I'm guessing this thing is just going to wait until it finds a spot to slip through. And then..." He trailed off, but Laguna had gotten the point.

"Okay," he relented. "I'll call Headmaster Cid and see what I can do."

0 0 0

The Ragnarok was flying over clear, blue water. Quistis watched the waves for ships and whales until the sun set, right around the time they were crossing over Fisherman's Horizon into the southern sea. Then, with nothing to see but the moon and the stars, she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. How many hours until Centra? She couldn't remember. Selphie and Irvine were whispering fervently to one another, but she couldn't make out what they were saying to one another over Raijin's loud talking. She relaxed, content for once to be left out.

"You don't think they'll fire me, do you?" Raijin asked.

"No way," Zell replied. "I vouched for you, remember? Besides, you're like...the best chef I've ever met. Who cares if they fire you? Start up your own restaurant or something."

"I don't think your word means anything, Wuss," Seifer replied. "I'd fire him just for knowing some dick-head like you."

Quistis wondered briefly if Seifer felt threatened by the bourgeoning friendship between Raijin and Zell but lost the thought as she drifted in and out of consciousness, shifting from reality to dreams and back again. The dreams were vivid and disjoined, like visions of abstract art. When Seifer came and sat down beside her, she saw him briefly as a splash of gold and green.

"Hey. You asleep?" He elbowed her in the side.

"I was. What do you want?"

"Fuck. I don't know."

She closed her eyes again. "Afraid I can't help you then."

He was silent for a long time and she began to drift off again before he quietly said, "This Tonberry thing bothers me."

She glanced at him. "What about it?"

"I don't know." He was frowning, a puckered line zagging across his scar between his eyes. "Nothing's ever been able to kill a guardian force before, right? When you fought Ultimecia, could she do it?"

Quistis was careful when she replied. "Not exactly. She could prevent us from summoning, but that was it."

"It just bugs me. Like...I can remember hearing something about it somewhere." He put his head back against the head rest and splayed his hands wide across his thighs. "Though it doesn't sound like this Tonberry was much of anything to begin with. Cactaur's small, but he packs a punch. This guy was just useless. Probably better off without him."

"Maybe." Quistis had never junctioned with Tonberry and wasn't familiar with him. But in the back of her mind, the course of their conversation was stirring up Bahamut's ire.

"The cowboy's torn up about it though. Right? That's what they've been talking about up there, isn't it?"

"No. That's something else." He seemed awfully talkative for someone who hadn't spoken to her in days. So she impulsively leaned close to him and asked, "Why didn't you come to dinner?"

He glanced down at her out of the corner of his eye. "Why did you answer the phone?"

Unwilling to answer that question, Quistis sighed and tried to get comfortable in her seat again. The Ragnarok was flying on autopilot now, its course smooth and steady with only the occasional bump of turbulence as they passed over warm patches of water. They had a long way to go before landing in Centra and then a long day ahead of them once they got there. Soothed by the steady roar of the ships engines and the warm, constant presence of someone in the seat next to her, she put her head back and allowed the world to spin out from underneath her again, away to a dreamless sleep.

Sometime later, she awoke confused when the Ragnarok's radio came on: "_Come in Ragnarok. This is Balamb Garden._"

Through half open eyes, she watched Selphie lean forward and respond. "Hey, Headmaster Cid. What do you need?"

"Last minute change of plans," Cid said, his voice serious. "I want you to continue on to Centra and drop Quistis and her team off at the Galbadian base camp. But then I'm going to need you, Irvine, and the Ragnarok in Esthar."

"What's happened in Esthar?" Irvine asked.

"We're doing Laguna a favor," Cid replied. "You'll get the details when you report in at the Esthar Air Station."

"We'll be there as soon as we can, sir." Beside her, Irvine swept his hat off his head and sat down on the bare, metal floor.

"Thank you, Ragnarok. Safe flying. See you soon."

In a tight whisper from the front of the ship, Quistis thought she overheard Selphie say to Irvine, "Sir Laguna! Booyaka! That's way better than the sweaty old desert."

Quistis wasn't sure what to think of Irvine and Selphie's new orders. Next to her, she noticed that Seifer was awake, but he didn't look at her or say anything. The impulse hit her muddled mind to lean her head against his shoulder the way women did in books and on movies. She didn't, and turned away from him until they landed in Centra, afraid that too many dark thoughts about whatever might be happening in Esthar might reveal some of her weakness to him.

The sun wasn't up yet when Selphie landed and opened the Ragnarok's doors.

"Sorry we can't stay," she said to everyone, then pulled Quistis into a hug. "Duty calls. But we'll probably be back here before you know it. We'll definitely be back to pick you guys up."

"Hey. Don't you guys worry about us," Zell said as he passed. "We're gonna find this weapon. I know it's here somewhere. I can feel it."

Quistis smiled at her two friends, a faint regret rising in her heart that they wouldn't be with her in Centra like they had been years ago walking into Ultimecia's castle. "You guys stay safe," she said. "We'll be in touch."

The air outside was dusty and cool, thick with a pre-dawn breeze raised by hot air coming in from the east. Quistis slung her backpack on and jogged to where her group was waiting, out of the way of the Ragnarok's engines as the door closed up into the dragon's belly. The ship shuddered and blasted off toward the approaching sunrise, leaving a screaming trail across the grey sky in its wake. Selphie had set them down a mile from the Galbadian camp which was invisible against the desert floor except for the huge Galbadian ship bobbing at anchor in the water just off-shore -- the GNS Hawkeye. They were the ones who had seen the lunar cry up close.

When they arrived in the camp, a soldier emerged from the flap of a canvas tent, propped a sword against his shoulder, and approached them.

"Are you Quistis Trepe?"

"That's me." She extended her hand and he shifted his sword to take it.

"Wasn't expecting you for a few hours yet," he said slowly. "Is this your whole team?"

"Yeah. This is all of us."

He counted heads and nodded. "Okay. It'll take us a few minutes to get your mounts ready. Any of you got experience? It took us days to round the suckers up, and they're still a little spooky."

"Round what up, exactly?" Quistis asked. He started walking into the camp and they followed.

"Chocobos. I'll show you the corral."

"Awesome! I love choco-back riding!" Zell bounced after the soldier, his backpack flapping unnoticed against the small of his back.

The corral was set up in the middle of the camp, a wide circle made entirely out of brambles and sticks. A dozen large, yellow birds were standing inside, their tail feathers stuck up in wide, rippling halos. They smelled musty, like clothing kept too long in storage, and were making soft, low sounds to one another.

"We're going to be riding chocobos to the site?" Quistis asked skeptically and crossed her arms. She'd figured the Galbadian military would have access to more high-tech methods of travel.

"It's really remote," Dr. Shipey said. "Up in the mountains. You can really only get there on foot or on a chocobo. It's a lot easier with the chocobo, especially if you've got to haul supplies."

"Right," the soldier agreed. "We already got some men up there, and this worked out just fine. So you'd better familiarize yourselves. We don't have saddles or anything, was hard enough finding enough bridles in Deling City. You know how to put one on? Gotta be careful -- they bite. I'll go get your guide."

Quistis took the old, leather bridle the soldier handed her and grimaced. Squall loved chocobos and had insisted on stopping at every chocobo forest they came across while traveling. She'd tried her best to like them for his sake but had never gotten comfortable with their size, their scaly feet, or their huge beaks which (she'd read) could take off a man's arm. And these weren't tame, carnival chocobos. She stood back and watched as Zell slipped through a gap in the corral and one of the birds charged at him, wings flapping. Like a pro, he stood his ground and rubbed the top of its beak when it stopped in front of him, earning an inexplicably gentle _kweh_.

"You know, this is how they did it back in Ancient Centran times," Dr. Shipey said as they fought through the gap into the corral together. "These walls are made out of trees native to Centra. They're very fast growing and shed branches all year round, so there are always massive supplies. Plus, chocobos don't really like the smell of them or the thorns. So they won't go through them unless they have to. It makes a great, natural enclosure for them."

"That's really interesting," Quistis mumbled, more interested in figuring out what direction was up on her bridle than learning the history of chocobo domestication from the professor. She watched Seifer as he walked up to a large bird, looped the reins around its scrawny neck, and then somehow strapped the whole assembly over its face. A smaller, shy looking bird nearby seemed as good a choice as any. She walked over to it and awkwardly tried to fit a loop of the bridle over its beak.

"Didn't you learn this in school?" Seifer asked as he walked over, towing his chocobo behind him.

"Did you?"

"Extracurricular activity." He grinned.

Or maybe hours of watching Laguna Loire riding around Trabia's southern plains on a white chocobo dressed as a sorceress's knight, Quistis thought. Either way, she was glad to let Seifer shove her out of the way and bridle the bird himself. It cooed and _kweh_'d at him like he was covered head to toe in gyshal greens.

"Animals fuckin' love me," he said and handed her the reins.

"Sure they do. Just like the rest of us."

Fujin needed help with her chocobo as well; Zell jumped to her aid. And then they stood, picking dirt and bits of down out from under their chocobos' wings while they waited. The animals were filthy with long, broken talons on their feet. Quistis thought they'd probably been caught fresh out of the wild. There were certain whistles that would draw chicks out of the trees and mothers almost always came to retrieve them. Distantly, she glanced at her chocobo and wondered if she was a young hen whose babies were starving to death somewhere in the forest. Knowing Galbadian soldiers though, she thought they'd probably been roasted and eaten. With that riding her conscience, she wrapped the reins around her hand and paced her mount back and forth until their guide arrived.

He was an officer and walked into the corral dressed in his serge uniform with his helmet on. "I'm Lieutenant Gilder. Are you all ready?" He didn't wait for an answer before grabbing a chocobo for himself. "Let's go."

"Just like that?" Raijin asked, his head peeking over a bunch of feathers from the other side of the corral. "No introduction to chocobo riding or anything? I'm not really sure I know how to do this, ya know?"

"It's simple. Sit on it, and try to stay on," Lt. Gilder snapped.

"Hey." Seifer stepped forward and slid Hyperion out from under his coat. "You got a problem?"

In the soldier's stance, Quistis saw a flash of recognition. He looked something like a lone wolf that had caught the scent of a rival dog, teeth bared, ready to begin a pissing match that she knew Seifer would be more than willing to engage in -- and probably win. Already, she'd had some suspicions that the Galbadians would be less than welcoming. They'd been enemies at war a week ago. She'd probably killed some of this man's friends in Dollet or in Galbadia. Krier's orders were keeping them safe here; she hoped Seifer would remember that and not start any trouble.

"Just get on so we can leave," Lt. Gilder finally replied. "We want to get up there before nightfall. Nasty fucking monsters around here at night."

"Don't need to worry about those," Zell said. "We can handle anything that cry brought down easy. You guys hear about Deling City down here?"

Satisfied that blood wasn't going to be spilled for the moment, Quistis turned to her chocobo and puzzled over how to get on.

"Yeah. We heard. But that doesn't make you our friends, okay? You people should know that our previous orders were to kill you on sight. Whatever's up there, you guys weren't supposed to get it. "

"Things change," Seifer said. He came up behind Quistis and boosted her up onto her chocobo's wide, soft back. It was an unasked for, unexpected gesture that she couldn't properly appreciate because she lost her grip on the reins as she settled in between the bird's wing joints. They dangled under her chocobo's chin, just out of reach.

"Sure. That lunar cry changed everything," Lt. Gilder said. "We saw it. Was just like the one two years ago over Esthar. Was like the goddamn world was ending."

They had no idea. Krier hadn't told his soldiers what they were really looking for up in the Centran mountains. As Quistis stretched, her fingers swatting at the reins, she wondered if telling Lt. Gilder exactly what they were going up against would mellow out his attitude. Dr. Shipey's translations were terrifying taken at face value, claiming that all of physical existence was cosmically out of balance with the divine realm, an evil place destined to be consumed back into the _fullness_ by Hyne unless they could figure out what Vascaroon had known eons ago. Her fingers brushed the reins and sent them swinging like the pendulum of a clock.

"Just don't let any of the monsters eat your chocobo or you'll have to walk." Lt. Gilder kicked his chocobo hard on both sides, squeezing a squawk out of it and sending it flapping over the bramble wall of the corral. Quistis's flapped and jumped in response as the others began to follow it. They were social birds; they liked being together. Hers flew over the top of the wall and landed hard in the sand on the other side, knocking her against its neck with the weight of her backpack.

"Fuck, you're helpless." Seifer rode up beside her and collected her reins. "I've got to do everything for you. Some kind of leader you make. Not really a surprise why you got demoted. Aren't you good at anything?"

She glared at him.

Ahead of them, Zell's chocobo took off into the desert. He was hunched low, riding like a pro, his body moving in perfect harmony with his mount's. Fujin and Raijin were both struggling, but not like Quistis was, her bottom a half second slower than the rest of her, jarring her with every step. She held on as tight as she could with her knees and hoped she'd get to wherever they were going alive and still able to move.

The sun was coming up now. She could feel it already warm on her back. Ahead the desert was coming alive with sun-splashed yellow sand and rosy flowers opening on the top of scrub cacti to entice early morning birds and bees. It would have been beautiful had Quistis not been searching the horizon for signs of abyss worms and thinking that long ago the desert they were riding through had been verdant fields at the center of civilization. Things changed so quickly. A river dried up and a lunar cry fell, and now everything was gone.

"This is so awesome, Quisty!" Zell circled back to her. "Riding through Centra, off to explore an ancient ruin! Man! It's like a movie or somethin'." He grinned so all his teeth showed, then rode off again.

Sure, it sounded great. But Quistis knew that it was going to be a long, hot day.


	21. Desert Heat

Chapter 20: Desert Heat

By mid-day, Seifer had sand in places that he'd never had sand before. Every inch of exposed skin felt gritty, and his clothing was chafing against him as if it were woven out of heavy-duty twine. Though his chocobo had gone from fresh lemony yellow to a sour golden hue, it didn't seem bothered by either the dirt or the heat from the sun that was burning oppressively in the cloudless, metallic-blue sky. When they reached a small, muddy oasis flanked by a few scrappy trees, Seifer was relieved to swing off his chocobo's back and collapse into the meager shade.

"We're about halfway there," Lieutenant Gilder said. Despite the heat, he had yet to take off his helmet or any other piece of his uniform. "This is the only oasis between base camp and the site. Our chocobos need a break, but as soon as they're rested we've got to leave, so don't get too cozy."

Seifer watched his chocobo scoop up water in its beak, bobbing and swallowing. The other birds crowded around it. And soon, Seifer's shade was filled by his companions as well: Fujin and Raijin under his tree; Quistis, Zell, and Dr. Shipey under another. They were all silent, even Zell, which was an especially welcome blessing since he had talked non-stop all morning long about Ancient Centra, lunar cries, chocobo racing, and desert survival tips that Seifer thought he'd probably learned in cub scouts.

"It's not going to be this hot up there, is it?" Zell asked as he fanned himself with both hands.

"Probably not," Lt. Gilder replied. "Stays nice and balmy up in the mountains this time of year."

"How far up in the mountains are we talking?" Quistis asked.

Lt. Gilder shrugged. "I don't know exactly. There's a trail that goes right up, over, and into a valley. You'll see. We should make it by nightfall."

"At least we haven't run into many monsters," Raijin said. His optimism was surprising seeing as he went back moments later to picking grains of sand from between his teeth with one filthy, blunt finger.

"It's too damn hot for monsters," Seifer replied. "They're smarter than us, hiding away in a cool cave somewhere until the sun goes down."

When they mounted up and got back on the trail, Seifer thought his chocobo felt heavy and sluggish, glutted with water. _Fucking thing will probably up and die from drinking too much_, he thought. If not now, then he figured it certainly would five days down the road when whatever parasites that were living in the fetid oasis finally caught up to it. He kicked the bird hard in the sides as they lagged behind the group.

A nagging sense of disappointment clung to him. When he'd watched Laguna Loire travel the world on choco-back in_ The Sorceress's Knight_, it hadn't been anything like this. Laguna's pale bird had been impeccably groomed with beautiful, gossamer feathers. And it had been trained to jump and fly on command. He felt like he was riding a scruffy, stupid mutt in comparison. Plus, Laguna had sat on top his steed as if it were the most natural, comfortable place in the world, whereas Seifer was beginning to get sore. He'd never figured riding would be physically difficult, and the growing pain in his thighs and ass were really beginning to interfere with the romance of his boyhood dreams.

Quistis fell back to ride beside him as they continued on toward the site. He glanced at her long enough to notice that she was dirty, and somehow it made her prettier.

The mountain range they were approaching ran down the middle of Centra and was mostly bare rock capped with snow on the highest peaks. In the far south and the far north a humid ocean breeze allowed trees to grow along the slopes, but the stretch they were heading toward now looked bleak and desolate.

"You sure there's something out here?" he asked no one in particular. "I thought everything down here was destroyed."

"A lot of it is," Dr. Shipey replied. "But some things survived, mostly in ruin. None of them have much writing though. The place we're going is special."

Seifer thought that was a nice way of saying the place they were going was so far out in the middle of nowhere that even monsters coming from the moon didn't bother with it. He wondered how anyone had discovered the ruin to begin with but was afraid to ask, hesitant about sparking another lecture from Dr. Shipey who didn't know how to answer a question in anything less than five hundred words.

When they finally reached the foothills of the mountains, Lt. Gilder instructed them to line up single file, and they made their way along a hard, beaten path traveling up the loose slopes. It was an old goat path, Dr. Shipey told them, used up until the desert had consumed the last of the good grazing land in the area a few dozen years ago. In a few places, the derelict trail had been washed out by rainfall from sudden cloudbursts, but their chocobos cleared the ragged gaps with ease. The path slowly tapered and the grade became steeper until it became little more than a switch-backing ledge going up the mountainside.

"My ears are plugged," Zell whined.

"Yawn and they'll pop," Lt. Gilder replied.

Zell spent the next twenty minutes yawning elaborately, working his jaw around in circles and digging his fingers into his ears. On the bright side the intense heat was beginning to abate, giving way to the cooler, thinner warmth of the mountains. Seifer was still sweating, but it was coming down off his forehead in rivulets now rather than streams.

As their trail curled between two peaks, scraps of vegetation began to appear, starting with yucca and bushy Centran thistle. Seifer's chocobo bent over as they passed a bunch of bright, purple flowers, ripped the plant out by the roots, and chewed leisurely. Seifer saw it swallow the snack only halfway, its craw bunching like an Adam's apple under its beak. _Disgusting animals_, he thought.

The sky was growing pink when they finally crossed over the top of the pass, revealing the startling valley beyond. It wasn't green exactly, but in the middle of the world's largest desert, it looked like a verdant paradise. A thick river sparkled like liquid fire in the sunset, meandering between wild fruit trees and punctuated by huge, island pillars of rock jutting up into the sky. They were wide and flat, topped with crumbling buildings interconnected by ancient, ratty bridges. Running parallel to the old bridges, someone had installed hasty new walkways made out of yellow nylon rope and wooden planks. Snuggled against the mountainside, away from the river, a shanty-town of tents was flapping idly in the breeze.

"This is the only place this river comes to the surface at," Dr. Shipey said as they started down a steep incline into the valley. "Just a few miles downstream, it goes back underground. It rises here with winter runoff and causes the erosion you see in the softer rock." He paused, looked over his shoulder triumphantly. "I told you this place was special."

"What was it?" Quistis asked. "A town?"

"No one knows for sure whether it was a functioning town or just some kind of hermitage. Some of the old Estharan histories call it Eram, but only in reference to people traveling there and back."

"Hot damn!" Zell whistled. "I know it's wrong to think so, but right now I'm kinda glad this whole Hyne thing has happened. I mean...excavating in Trabia, in the Tomb of the Unknown King, exploring the Dollet Catacombs: how much cooler could it get?"

Seifer thought Zell was probably in the wrong business if a few old buildings was what made him weak in the knees but for once kept the thought to himself. He was a little impressed this time around as well. It was hard not to feel close to something important here. For the first time, he felt like he might really be walking in Vascaroon's footsteps. This was just the sort of place he could imagine the ancient hero whiling away his days.

"Hey!" Another soldier waved to them from the tents. "We're keeping the chocobos over there, on the other side of the camp!" He gestured wildly with his arm.

Lt. Gilder acknowledged him, then dismounted and handed his reins to Fujin. "You take her in for me."

"Why should she?" Seifer asked. "What'll you be busy doing besides scratching your ass?"

"I've got to sit down and meet with my men -- lots of people to debrief. There are extra tents; you'll have to put up your own."

For the first time, Lt. Gilder took off his helmet. He was young, maybe approaching thirty, and unremarkable. His wasn't a face Seifer would remember.

Seifer watched as the soldier walked away, shouting a loud hello to his comrades. He supposed that the man thought he was important, that his life and existence were at the center of all things. Lots of people thought that, but only a few were actually right. Seifer meant to be one of the latter. He'd made certain his entire life to be at the epicenter of everything, and it gave him a chill of self-satisfaction to think that his presence here in Eram was vastly more critical than any of the Galbadians, or Raijin, or Fujin, or even Quistis and Zell. They needed him to defeat Squall -- he was the linchpin.

They dismounted onto rubbery legs and walked stiffly around the camp, down a nylon walkway to where the chocobos were being stabled among a grove of citrus trees. The air was sweet and fresh, warm but crisp from the river flowing slowly nearby. The chocobos needed no rubbing down: Seifer's pulled eagerly out of its bridle the moment he unhooked it and then flew up into a nearby tree where its weight sagged the branches, knocking off a few, unripe fruits. A cacophony of bird calls erupted out of the other chocobos already there.

Quistis crumpled to the ground. "I'd like to lie down and sleep for a few days. And maybe take a hot bath. I'm so sore, I can hardly walk."

"AGREED." Fujin dropped beside her.

"I don't know if it's true," Dr. Shipey said, "but I've read that there's baths here."

Quistis laughed. "You shouldn't tease, Professor."

"I'm not. The Ancient Centrans had very well developed water infrastructure. They built lots of irrigation systems and baths; they prized fresh water. You should hear some of the descriptions of the gardens they built..."

"And these baths still work?" Seifer asked.

"It's not really a matter of working," Dr. Shipey replied. "They're fed by the river. They're always full."

Quistis got up. "Well, it's a cold bath, but better than nothing I guess. Where's it at?"

Shipey didn't know for sure and said they would need to explore. The Galbadians seemed content to let them wander, apparently unconcerned that the excruciatingly saddle-sore group would get very far, and no one said anything to them as they hobbled past the collection of tents into the ruin. The city was filled with cryptic buildings, a few of them decorated with reliefs of people, others with abstract mosaic floors that were partially covered in dirt. The one Dr. Shipey eventually led them into was relatively intact compared to the rest, but was missing one wall. A pool-sized area in the floor was filled with still, dark water.

Quistis bent over and dipped her fingers in.

"Hey." She smiled. "It's not bad."

"The bottom of the bath is painted black to draw in heat from the sun. It warms the shallow water quite effectively," Dr. Shipey explained. "They stay in good shape here in Centra, there just aren't enough plants or bacteria here to muck them up. But I've heard of a couple that turned into horrible, rotting ponds in Galbadia."

"Hell. Looks good to me," Zell said. He started to pull his shirt over his head.

"FIRST!" Fujin bellowed, jabbing her chest with her finger.

"It's big enough. We don't have to take turns." Zell tossed his shirt to the ground and started unbuttoning his pants.

"Fuck. Hold on, Chicken Wuss! There's no way I'm going to get in there _naked_ with another man," Seifer said, his stomach turning at the thought of seeing Zell any more undressed than he was now.

"Oh!" Zell stopped abruptly. "Uh...yeah. Me neither. So, what? You guys wanna take turns?"

Fujin got to go first, then Zell. Everyone else walked back to the camp and started setting up their tents as far away from the main group of Galbadians as possible. Seifer drove the final stake into his right as the sun went down and held the flap open so that Raijin, fresh from the bath, could survey his work. It must have been satisfactory, because Raijin climbed in and didn't come back out.

In the dim light remaining, Seifer saw Quistis start off on the trail into the ruin and jogged to get ahead of her. He knew that if he got there first, she would let him go in front of her, and he didn't want to be the last one up, stumbling around this dead city in the dark. She was slow, her gait pained, so he easily beat her to the bath. Wet footprints paced back and forth across the stone floor, making it cold and clammy against his feet as he pulled off his boots and socks, tossing them aside. Hastily, he tucked his arms into his shirt as well and worked the dusty, wretched thing off. He'd be in, back out, and in bed within five minutes. And sleep was sounding damn good.

Quistis turned the corner and stopped. "Hey! Seifer!" Her eyes were narrow and her mouth was set in a hard line when he glanced at her. "It's supposed to be my turn next!"

"I already started," he replied.

"So?"

"So...I'm practically already wet. You should let me go."

"You're _not_ wet, and it's my turn." She was being more stubborn than he'd anticipated.

"Look. I'm here, I'm half naked...the ball is rolling. You can wait just a couple minutes while I clean up. It's not a big deal."

"If it weren't a big deal, then you'd be the one waiting. I'm hot. I'm tired. I'm dirty. And I _want_ my goddamn bath."

He was surprised to hear her curse, and was even more surprised when she didn't so much as glance away from his face when he unzipped his pants, the metallic, unraveling sound passing her by without ruffling a single hair.

"Well, I'm hot and tired and dirty, too," he replied. "Maybe you should share."

An expression of hard fury raged across her expression like a brush fire. He saw her fingers clench around the change of clothes she'd brought with her. And, like a gunshot, she yelled, "_Fine_!"

Seifer felt a brief stab of guilt, but the feeling was abruptly overwhelmed as Quistis stomped past him to the edge of the bath and bent over to take off her shoes.

He watched in mute fascination, afraid to interrupt, eager to see how far she would go. Their tense, almost awkward kiss in the training center and her dismissal of him in her dorm room had led him to believe she was the shy type, afraid of her body and what it could do. But here she was in the middle of nowhere, standing in the silver light of the rising moon, unfastening the buttons running down the front of her shirt, her hair hanging loose in a wild mane of wind-blown tangles. And he felt a spasmodic, embarrassing lurch of lust.

"God." He reached out and stilled her hands as they moved to peel her blouse apart. "Stop."

"Why? I'm not kicking you out. Take your damn turn. I don't care."

She pulled at her shirt again, revealing the soft, inner curve of one breast vanishing into creamy lace.

"Do you always have to be such a selfish bully?" she demanded when he pulled her shirt shut, the tips of his fingers brushing her bare skin. "Isn't there even a shred of decency in you?"

He thought what he was doing at the moment was pretty damn decent and told her so.

"That's not what I mean," she snapped. "It's this whole attitude you have. You spend all of your time insulting me, demeaning me, and then you expect all of these favors as if we're the best of friends. You undermine my authority in front of the other team members. And you don't even seem to feel the faintest bit of guilt over what you've done. So what's the deal?"

Words were tumbling unchecked out of her mouth. He looked down at her, and he saw that she was teetering on the edge, in the same sort of mood she'd been when she tried to strangle him in Dollet. She was tired, her defenses were down, and he'd pushed some wrong button. Now he wasn't sure whether he wanted to un-do it or ride out the wave.

"That's just who I am," he said.

"Yeah! An _ass_!"

Her voice bounced off the stone walls of the bath, echoing back to them off the mountains. She covered her mouth after she said it, whether from actual regret or to keep from screaming further Seifer wasn't sure. But, absurdly, he wanted to rip her hand from her lips and kiss her. And he was going to, until something shuffled out of a crack in the partial ceiling and dropped with a _plop_ into the water.

"What the hell...?" Seifer took a step toward the bath as something splashed and scuttled, heading toward the edge.

"Seifer." Quistis grabbed his hand, her voice hushed. "Step back. I think that might be a--"

She didn't get the opportunity to finish before the creature -- a cactaur -- leapt onto the dry stone, gurgled, and scissored its blunt, stiff arms at them, releasing thorns like shrapnel from a grenade. Seifer felt no pain, though a hail of thorns hit him in the arm and the back as he spun around and grabbed Quistis, trying to pull her down, out of the brunt of the attack. He saw three huge thorns fly through the shoulder of her shirt and stick in the flesh there before they tumbled painfully to the ground together. The cactaur made a throaty sound and ran away, bare of thorns for the moment, its smooth body twitching off into the night.

Quistis groaned.

"Shit. Sorry." He sat up with her.

"I tried to warn you. You never listen." He chose not to remind her that she had been the one to scare out the cactaur, electing instead of watch silently as she peeked over her shoulder at the damage and sighed, her posture sinking. "I'm way too tired for this."

Despite his pride, and perhaps because he was so exhausted as well, Seifer didn't want to do battle with Quistis tonight. He searched his mind for some way to make amends.

"Here...I'll pull them out for you if you pull them out for me. Deal?"

He took her silence as agreement and drew her close. One by one, he pulled the thorns out of her shoulder, pressing his fingers to the little trickles of blood that came free and stained her shirt with black blossoms.

She leaned into him, wincing, her cheek pressing against his collarbone, her hair in his face. And then it was her turn.

Seifer allowed a strange silence to fall over them as she shifted to sit behind him, her hands moving over his shoulders, easing between the thorns and prying them loose, gentle healing magic flowing slowly from her skin into his. For a long time, he sat still and let her work. He looked out over Eram rising in platinum and shadow from the valley floor, and he felt something stir deep in his heart, pulsing to the rhythm of Quistis's gentle hands, the tug and sharp pain of the thorns, and the weariness from a hard day's travel in the sun. He felt his eyes growing heavy and dreams danced across his brain of an ancient sword sitting on top an alter at the edge of the ruin, last held as Vascaroon cleaved it through Hyne's immortal flesh.

When Quistis was done, dropping the last thorn into a pile at his elbow, she leaned in front of him.

"That's it," she said.

He swept one hand through her thick, blonde hair, and kissed her.

It wasn't passionate or possessive or any of the other ways Seifer usually kissed women. She tasted warm, sweet, and innocent. He felt her sag against him, her hands gripping his shoulders. He pulled her around into his lap, then kissed her again, one hand at the small of her back, the other buried in her hair, bringing her down until his sore back touched the cold, wet floor.

Thinking of the way she had tended to him, he held her close and peeled back her shirt from the wounds he hadn't bothered to heal on her shoulder. Now, his eyes closed, his cheeks warmed by her breath, he pressed his palm over the tender area and funneled magic into her. He'd almost forgotten he had any cure spells at all -- he never used them, didn't usually like the way regenerative magic felt, spicy and penetrating. But she sighed and moved against him when she felt the spell ease the pain from the cactaur attack and her stiff, travel weary muscles.

Seifer had done a lot of things in his time. But he'd never done _this_ -- whatever it was. It felt dangerously intimate, like having Ultimecia inside his head, pulling every rapturous string.

Quistis murmured something against his shoulder and her legs slipped to either side of his own.

He ran his hand down from her shoulder to her hip and hooked his fingers on the top of her pants. He pushed them over the rise of her upturned bottom and felt her smooth, cotton underwear underneath which he held in place with one hand while urging her pants down her legs with the other until she kicked out of them.

Thoughtlessly, Seifer squeezed the back of her thigh. And she winced and pulled away.

"Oh fuck. I'm a damn moron. I forgot." He looked up at her, hoping he could still salvage the moment. He eased her to him again, listened to her sigh, and felt her pulse in her throat when he kissed here there. But the haze, the world constricted to him and her, was dissolving back into desert, exhaustion, and conflict.

Before their peace was all gone, she smiled down at him and said, "Let's take a bath."

They bathed together in their underwear, silent. It wasn't warm, but after an entire day spent under the sun, Seifer thought slightly cool felt just right.

0 0 0

Irvine looked through the rearview mirror in his rented car and watched the city of Esthar sink into the distance. He was driving straight out into the desert, past the Sorceress Memorial and past Tear's Point to a power relay for the city's protective fence. Selphie was in the passenger seat, working on a laptop sitting open across her lap. She brought up a glowing green map of the continent and highlighted one of multiple red dots marking the locations of equipment critical to keeping the barrier up. The relay they were heading to now had failed twice in the past five years and was currently designated "faulty" on their map. The mechanic with her toolbox in the back seat was along to fix it, and Selphie and Irvine were charged with protecting her.

"I think we're still too far north," Selphie said. "Turn that way a little."

"How can you tell? Let's just drive until we hit the fence and figure out where we are from there."

It was the middle of the night. The whole desert was pitch black and seemed exceptionally dark after coming from the city. Irvine's headlights hardly penetrated the inky veil, illuminating only a few rocks and the sporadic eyes of nighttime creatures.

"Sir Laguna said we need to get on this as soon as possible," Selphie reminded him. "And I'm pretty sure it's that way. I think I've seen it before, when we were here to get Rinoa."

He turned the wheel a little to humor her.

"Can you bring up notes from the last inspection for me?" the mechanic asked. "I'd like to get some idea of what we're going to find."

Selphie pointed and clicked her way to a document that looked like it had been produced on a typewriter and then scanned into the computer later.

"I meant the most recent one."

"This _is _the most recent one."

"Guess that explains why it's broken," the mechanic said, her voice flat.

She was unaware that at any given moment during their mission she might be snapped up and eaten like Tonberry had been on the beach in Galbadia. The monsters still left over from the lunar cry two years before posed enough of a danger to the average person to warrant the escort, so she hadn't questioned why two SeeDs were driving her. Laguna had been quietly shuttling people across the sea from Balamb all day long. And Xu had already set up shop in the Presidential Palace. But walking the calm streets of downtown Esthar one wouldn't know the government was preparing for an onslaught. Even for this simple mission, Irvine and Selphie were both equipped with two of Garden's strongest guardian forces: Doomtrain and Diablos.

"There!" Selphie bounced in her seat, almost throwing the laptop to the floor. "I think that's it!"

Irvine pulled to a stop in front of a small, dark building and turned off the car. "It's a whole building?" he said. "I thought it'd just be some kind of green box." He turned around and looked at the mechanic, doubtful now that she alone would be able to do anything to fix the problem.

They got out of the car without turning the headlights off. Out in the desert, nothing stirred. Only Selphie's Strange Vision was moving, swinging free in her right hand, already charged and sparking with thunder magic. The mechanic walked up to the door, flipped open a panel, and began punching numbers into the display.

"There hasn't been an actual repair here in over seven years," she muttered, gesturing to a slip of paper taped to the inside of the panel. "Why isn't anyone staying on top of this?"

When the door hissed open, Irvine buttoned his coat and followed the mechanic and Selphie inside. Somewhere up ahead, he could hear the girl flipping switches and throwing levers. Half the lights came on and the other half flickered in their sockets and went out. Inside, the small structure was filled with obscure metal boxes rooted to the ground and long wires strung across the ceiling, the floor, and the walls. Far in the back, a generator hummed.

"This might take a while," she said. So Irvine and Selphie walked outside together, turned off the car's headlights, and waited like sentries on either side of the door.

Beyond the light spilling out of the relay station, Irvine couldn't make out much. His eyes chased phantom streaks of color and bits of moonlight, but nothing resolved into anything solid. He was beginning to relax, beginning to feel confident that the monster had stayed in the salt flats and wasn't smart enough to try his luck this far up the fence, when the mechanic stuck her head out the door.

"I think there's a problem with the transformer," she said. "I'm going to have to shut it down for a few minutes to take a look at it, and it's going to knock this portion of the fence out. I can't work on it when it's got power running through it."

"How much of the fence does this power?" Selphie asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. What's it matter?"

"Just be quick," Irvine replied. "If it's something you can't fix right away, just power it back up, and we'll come back later."

She nodded and walked back inside. Moments later, he heard something wheeze and settle, and a flicker ran like a streak of lightning across the desert as the stretch of wall came down. Now was the time for vigilance -- he stepped away from the relay station, out into the dark, and waited for his eyes to adjust.

Something tickled his brain. A sound maybe, soft and steady. Or paranoia, perhaps.

"Hear that?" he whispered to Selphie.

"What?"

The mechanic was humming now, irritating and loud. Over that and the sound of her tools, Irvine couldn't clearly make out the punctuation of his own heartbeat, but a shiver crept across his skin. He turned and looked at their idle car, awash in gray light, but nothing moved. Out across the hard, baked earth, not even an imp cried. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was an odd sound in the mix, like a single note out of tune in a symphony.

"Shit," the mechanic cursed. "It's really hosed. We're going to have to come back. Should hold out for a little while; I replaced one part. But this whole thing looks like it needs some serious attention."

"Fire it up again then, and let's go," Irvine said.

She muttered under her breath about bad bureaucracy and the inspectors not doing their jobs as she worked. The box she had turned off, the transformer, came back to life with a shudder and an electric hum. Irvine's hair stuck to the back of his coat and the side of his face as the charge to create the fence built up, and then exploded outward, racing across the sand and sketching huge honeycombs across the black sky like a quilt of velvet and diamonds. In amongst the folds, before the storm of fresh current settled, he saw something close to him move -- just a spattering of spots against the ground.

He didn't have time to react before he found himself sprawled face first in the rocky soil. His chin hit hard, cracking his teeth together.

"Irvine?"

A growl, and something caught the bottom of his coat, pulling him over onto his back. Blindly, he reached out with Exeter, and as soon as he felt the barrel come into contact with solid flesh, he pulled the trigger. The recoil wrenched his arm, but he saw a flash of orange fur and fired a second time. And a third.

"Irvy!" Selphie skidded up to him, nearly crashing over his prone body. A ball of fire was glowing in her hand. "Are you okay? What just happened?"

A torama was lying prone across his right led, over half its head blown off by armor piercing rounds fired at close range. Some of its fur was singed and smoking.

"Wow." Selphie bent down. "Really snuck up on us, didn't it? You're bleeding." She rolled the dead monster off him and helped him up. "And...I think you just really freaked out our mechanic."

He lifted a hand to where blood was dribbling down his shirt from his split chin. Silhouetted in the doorway to the relay station, the mechanic was gripping the door frame, her stance wide and alert.

"I thought for a second that..." he trailed off, feeling like a coward. "Sorry."

She let her fireball die out, dropping the remnants of the spell to the ground. It burned away to an ember next to the sad carcass of the torama. Beyond it, Esthar's fence shimmered, just barely visible. And somewhere beyond that, he wondered, was the god beast still waiting? Doomtrain loomed stupidly inside his head, offering no insight and no sense that he any idea something out of the ordinary was happening.

Then again, how often was Irvine's life actually ordinary?

When Irvine got back in the car, he frowned and rubbed his shoulder. Tomorrow he was going to start working with some men from Dr. Odine's lab, and he didn't want to be as edgy as he was now. He hadn't been quite himself since that snake washed up on the beach, and since Selphie told him she knew he'd been cheating on her.

"Was that a torama?" the mechanic asked. "I thought I saw those whisker things."

"Yeah," Irvine replied. "Got the drop on us."

"Well, God. I'm glad you guys were here." She smiled, bright and cheery. Oblivious. "This whole place just hasn't been the same since the lunar cry. It's so dangerous now. I've heard there's even some dragons up on the cliffs."

Irvine sighed. "How long did you say that transformer would hold out without being fixed?"

"Hard to say for certain. Couple days. Couple weeks. Tell President Loire he needs to just bite the bullet and replace the darn thing, otherwise it's going to break completely, maybe take a few things down with it, and then a whole section of Esthar's going to be exposed. And if this one hasn't been serviced, you can bet the other ones haven't either. I'm just saying...it's worth spending the money on, you know? It's a disaster waiting to happen."

0 0 0

Quistis slept late the next morning. She was glad as she dressed alone in her tent that Fujin wasn't there to see the fresh, red marks the cactaur thorns had left on her shoulder and the small bruise Seifer's lips had left above her collarbone.

Breakfast was already over by the time she emerged, but one of the Galbadian soldiers offered her what was left of a plate of bacon and a hard biscuit. She walked down to the grove where the chocobos were and picked a few ripe fruits to supplement her cold, meager meal. And as she ate, she felt good. She was reluctant to credit Seifer with her cheerful attitude, but she searched the camp for him while finishing off the last of her bacon.

She eventually found him, along with Zell and Dr. Shipey, in the ruin.

Seifer was leaning against the wall, a camera slung around his neck. Zell and Dr. Shipey were entirely absorbed in barely visible carving on a small chunk of rock that the professor was holding in the palm of his hand.

"You see this?" Shipey asked and pointed.

"Ah! Yeah!" Zell took it from him. "Looks like this is some sort of list. Those are numbers here in this column, right? And this one looks like it could be orders of magnitude, and this one here is what they're counting."

Shipey nodded. "Right. That word here is for a type of cereal grain. So what's that tell you?"

"Storage?" Zell looked around. "Or a mill maybe, but I don't see any milling equipment around so...storage, right? Unless it's been moved."

"I don't think we have to worry about provenience. Nobody comes here, and there's nothing to indicate it was moved in antiquity. So, yes. Storage."

They walked out together, both nodding.

"What's going on?" Quistis asked Seifer. He rolled his eyes.

"School."

Zell had been spending a lot of time with Dr. Shipey, learning what he could. And Dr. Shipey was more than happy to oblige his fledgling student. Quistis hadn't realized just how much her friend was picking up.

"Why are you here?" She didn't mean it to sound insulting, but it did.

He gestured to the camera sitting against his stomach. "I got roped into being the damn photographer after Raijin and Fujin volunteered to pick through what the Galbadians have already collected looking for a certain symbol or something. Left me standing there like a goddamn moron, the only one not helping. Aside from you, I guess."

Quistis and Seifer trailed after Shipey and Zell, across a nylon bridge to another broad pillar of rock. They came up to a well-preserved building that was built right into the mountainside. The doorway was flanked by the remnants of two statues, both missing arms. Inside the air was cool and dark, illuminated only by the open door and by shafts of light peeking through breaks in the solid ceiling. Quistis had to blink a few times before her vision resolved and she noticed the colors.

Paint was thick across the walls, peeling off in sheets in some places but still fully intact in others. A huge, tropical tree was painted across the far wall, heavy with fruit. People were sitting underneath it, scraps of paper lying open in their laps, quills balanced between their fingers. The sun bared down above the tree, rays of light spreading out down to the scene and up across the ceiling where concentric circles spread until they met in the middle.

"Now _this_ is promising," Shipey whispered.

He walked up to the tree, reached out as if to touch it, and glided his fingers along a cushion of air just above it. He stopped at a column of writing. His mouth moved as he read.

"Yes. This is perfect. It's a creation story...about Hyne." He gestured to a figure on the ceiling, a black, malevolent cloud from which the sun was bursting. "That's Hyne right there."

"So what's this place then?" Seifer asked. "Not another storage room, is it?"

"It's a shrine. Sanctuary. Church. Whatever you want to call it." Shipey nodded, satisfied with himself. "This is our best bet for now. Let's get started, shall we?"

For the rest of the day, Seifer and Quistis took photographs, fetched notes from Dr. Shipey's tent, and packed fragile objects into boxes stuffed with cotton so that they could be examined back at the camp. The day passed almost without incident.

Quistis left Dr. Shipey puzzling over a set of words he didn't recognize. The camp was entirely empty when she got back except for Raijin and Fujin playing a game of Triple Triad and Seifer, cleaning Hyperion after finally being released from his photography duties. Quistis walked up to them.

"Where is everyone?"

"Dunno," Seifer replied. "Galbadians have been gone all day, according to Fu."

"And you didn't go with them?" Quistis asked, turning to Fujin.

"Why would she?" Seifer replied. "Personally, I've seen enough dirt and rocks for one day. I just want to eat and then hit the baths."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, arrogant beyond measure. She'd been curious whether their previous evening would repeat itself. It seemed unlikely that such a quiet, gentle moment would ever occur again in Seifer Almasy's caustic world. And with the way he looked at her now -- borderline triumphant, entirely confident -- she began to doubt he'd even felt what she had. It wouldn't have been the first time for Quistis that a man didn't notice the burning emotional connection that she felt like a firebrand through her heart.

She sat down to observe the progress of the Triple Triad game and ate some of the dry food from their rations. She was finishing off a bag of dehydrated-something when Zell sprinted up.

"Hey!" He paused, gripping his knees. "You guys have _got_ to come check out what the professor just found!"

"It's almost dark, Chicken Wuss. I think whatever new letter Dr. Shipey found etched into some wall can wait until morning."

"Trust me. You'll want to see this."

Reluctantly, they followed Zell back into the darkening ruin. He was talking the whole way about how the professor's proficiency in Ancient Centran had vastly improved since they'd picked him up in Galbadia, about how they'd discovered a lot more about the creation story of Hyne, and about how they'd come to notice a "certain something" about the tree at the back of the sanctuary.

When they arrived, the sanctuary was empty, though notebooks and sheets of paper were scattered across the floor.

"It's through here," Zell said, walking toward the back. "You hardly even notice it until you get right up by it. The light is so dim, it's really easy to miss."

He stepped up in front of the huge painting of the fruit tree and, with a smile, abruptly vanished behind it. He was gone for a few seconds before his head popped back out again, grinning at his stunned friends.

"There's a doorway," he explained. "Right here. It's hidden really well by shadows and by the painting. Like I said, you hardly even notice it's here until you're right on top of it. Come on. Dr Shipey's down there already."

"Down where?" Seifer asked as they followed Zell's disconcerting, disembodied head behind the fruit tree, through a narrow gap in the wall, and into a long, dark tunnel. It was warm inside, the air stale but slightly sweet.

"Watch your step." Zell was somewhere far ahead. "And just keep going straight."

Quistis could see vague outlines of a high hallway they were walking down on an inclined path straight into the side of a mountain. It snaked briefly upward before plateauing and leading them into a chamber that was lit by a flashlight set on end, shining up at the ceiling. In among the shadows, Quistis could see walls thick with writing and pictures, kept fresh and vital by the chamber's protection from the elements. The room contained four large columns, one in every corner. And in the middle of the room, next to the flashlight, an empty alter stood, flat but worn in the middle.

"This word," Zell pointed to a group of symbols on the wall. "That's '_Hyne_'. Now take a look around. See how often it's repeated? This is the freaking jack-pot."

Quistis looked around, but kept having to refer back to Zell's finger. All these letters looked the same to her, and it frustrated her that Zell found the language so easy to pick up on -- she wasn't accustomed to being the slow one.

"If it's so great, where's Dr. Shipey at?" Seifer asked.

"He was gonna head further in when I came to get you guys," Zell said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the far back of the dark room where, Quistis assumed, another doorway must have been hidden.

"You let him go alone?" Seifer crossed his arms. "What if it's dangerous? You ever think about that, Chicken Wuss? What if there's monsters down there?"

"I haven't seen any monsters here," Zell replied with a shrug.

"Yeah. The valley seems pretty safe," Raijin agreed. Seifer's scathing look drew out a quiet, "So far, I mean...ya know?"

As they followed Zell to the back of the room and through another partially concealed door, Quistis drew the soft, familiar scent of cinnamon, honey, and incense deep into her lungs. It was exactly how the tomb in Trabia had smelled -- the scent of a sacred place. It made her slow, groggy with memory of that first chamber she'd dropped through the floor of the crater into, filled with broken pottery and paintings. So she was the last one into the next tunnel and unable to see anything ahead of her except the wall of Raijin's back and the low ceiling, just rough rock. The light from the flashlight Zell had taken from the first room was faint, but she thought the walls were decorated here as well. They felt rough under her fingertips.

"Ouch!" Raijin hit his head on something, and Quistis ducked just in case, afraid either she'd hit the same thing he had or that the impact of his solid head would bring the mountain down on top of them. Neither happened. Instead, they emerged out into the cool, star-studded night.

They were on another island pillar to the east of the city, facing out over the vast, moon-bleached desert. Beneath them, the river slipped around a bend, and the ground under their feet was thick with flowers. It was a stunning contrast.

Fujin smiled a little. "BEAUTIFUL."

Quistis wondered whether Hyne understood moments like this. Or Ultimecia. For the first time, she felt a rush of pity for the sorceress who'd hated life and the world so much that she'd done everything she could to become its destroyer. She'd seemed sad, alone in her castle, though Quistis only noticed so now.

And then, suddenly, like the mountains had birthed him, Dr. Shipey came flying out of the darkness, running across the flowers toward them. He was waving his hands, stumbling in his haste. And he was yelling.

"I have it! By God, _I have it_!"

His voice was shrill, coursing with euphoria. He looked like a half-mad ancient philosopher, running the streets of ancient Eram after discovering the earth was round, or solving an arcane mathematical problem. Quistis was so occupied with the oddity of the usually placid professor sprinting through the night that she didn't immediately take in what he was saying.

"It's this way!" he yelled, waving behind him. "Vascaroon's weapon...right there, clear as day! Come see! You have to see!"

The next thing Quistis knew the flowers were ripping by under her feet, petals fluttering up in her face from Seifer's footsteps as she followed him and he followed the professor across the field, up to the towering mountain face and down a spiraling path worn into the rock. Shipey was nearly incoherent at the front of the group, his glasses riding halfway down his nose, his balding head beaded with perspiration that he kept dabbing off with his sleeve. The spiral path ended at the opening to a cave. Dr. Shipey jogged inside, his flashlight beam waving about, a piercing, yellow eye.

Crossing into the cave, a solemn weight settled on Quistis's shoulders. This was important. She looked around, trying to pick out details to recall later for when she told her children (or, someone's children) about the moment. But she couldn't see much beyond the hint of images and writing on the wall, nothing she'd be able to recount. Ahead of her, Seifer was quiet, his eyes intense. This was a pivotal point for him as well, she realized. This was his redemption, whether he realized it or even wanted it. She knew this day would alter the way history would record him. He'd be a hero at last.

"In here!" Shipey waved them forward.

They entered a room similar to the one they'd been in further up the mountain with columns and an empty alter in the middle.

"You said it was here," Seifer said.

"It's _here_." Shipey pointed to a passage of text on the wall. "Wait. Just listen."

He cleared his throat, ran his fingers along the wall with a reverence Quistis had never seen a man display, and began to read.

"The hero Vascaroon went alone into the desert. He was gone for forty days, and returned with a guardian from heaven to protect us. They rode back together on a huge, pale beast with six legs, bearing a gigantic sword." Seifer grunted, and the professor continued. "They left then to confront Hyne. In his native land of Trabia, Vascaroon found Hyne and the guardian took his sword and cut the magician in two. One part was buried there while the other vanished forever."

"So, it's this sword we need?" Raijin asked.

Quistis frowned. "I don't think so."

"It seems very clear to me," Shipey said. "The guardian from heaven must be a guardian force. And according to this, Vascaroon didn't defeat Hyne himself. He didn't even _fight_ Hyne. The guardian force did it."

"Great! Then all we gotta do is find this GF. Does it say anywhere what it's called or where we can find it?" Zell asked.

"Right here." Shipey pointed to a word and beamed, holding his finger on it, letting it burn into his skin. He said the name slowly, pointing to each letter and sounding it out: "_Odin_."


	22. God is Dead

A/N: I have a small benchmark to celebrate. With this chapter, I now have over 500,000 words logged on this site. I've come leaps and bounds since those first few hundred. So here's to the next half million, wherever they may take me. Cheers.

Chapter 21: God is Dead

Seifer didn't know anything was wrong until Fujin grabbed his arm, her fingers sinking in just above his elbow.

"Odin." Quistis repeated the name.

"That's what it says. Why? What's wrong?" Dr. Shipey replied, his smile fading

"Just that..." Quistis paused, swallowed. "Odin's dead."

Seifer felt like he'd been sucker-punched in the gut: out of breath, dizzy, unable to process this twist of fate.

"Dead?" Dr. Shipey repeated.

"He was killed on the Lunatic Pandora, right before time compression."

Seifer had always remembered bits and pieces of what had happened on board the Lunatic Pandora: he remembered Squall; he remembered Fujin talking to him soft and slow, trying to convince him that he was being manipulated; and he remembered standing in front of Adel's tomb, burning with anger while Rinoa struggled in his arms.

Now, a new memory sparked to life and a new presence came forward.

He tried to jerk out of Fujin's grip as the recollection washed over him hot and hard, but she held to him fast even as his mind spun into the past, back to the eerie blue-green light and the sulphurous stench of a fresh lunar cry. He shuddered with a sudden chill, remembering the sting of rainwater on his hands and a man with skin like tallow, crowned with twin horns, and carrying curved blade that whistled as it sliced through the air.

_Odin._

Seifer glanced down at Fujin, hoping she'd say something to either confirm or drive away the fear creeping up his spine.

"He was _killed_? How? By who?" Dr. Shipey said. "And you actually _had _him? You had Vascaroon's guardian force?"

Seifer almost didn't hear Quistis's response: "Sort of. He was different from our other guardian forces. More independent. He couldn't be summoned. We found him in some ruins northwest of here. He was there...just waiting."

Shipey sucked in a breath and held it, then said on the exhale, "_Well_..."

_That's it_, Seifer realized. _It's over_.

"I guess there's not much we can do here tonight," Dr. Shipey continued. He brushed his fingers over Odin's name one last time and sighed. "I'll come back tomorrow morning. There might be something more."

The desert seemed colder when they left. As they climbed the winding stairs back to the flower field, Seifer couldn't help but see bleached, dead land that had once belonged to Vascaroon and Odin. Was this what Balamb would be like in a hundred years? Would the Galbadian desert expand too and consume Deling City, Timber, and Dollet until they were ruins like this place, forgotten and withered?

"Say we don't find anything else," Zell said softly as they walked through the blossoms. "Then where do we go from here?"

"Let's just wait and see," Quistis suggested. "Dr. Shipey is right. There could be more information here."

"And if there isn't?" Seifer asked. "What then?"

She shrugged. "Then we'll go to Esthar."

Seifer scowled. He didn't want to go to Esthar. He hated everything about that city, including Laguna Loire. And if he had to choose a place to enjoy the last days of his material existence, he thought he'd like to be somewhere pleasant. Even wandering Centra was preferable -- at least here, he thought, he felt as if he was standing on the edge of the world anyway.

On the other side of the flower field, they squeezed back through the dark tunnel, down through the chamber with the empty alter, and back out into the small sanctuary with the star-studded ceiling. Dr. Shipey's papers were still scattered across the ground inside. Seifer bent and picked up a sheet of ruled notebook paper covered with in Shipey's deliberate, neat hand and thought of an instructor he'd once had in Garden who'd told him that words had power, that the ability to name and call was central to what made magic work. Suddenly, he felt like he understood what his instructor had meant -- they'd spent the last few weeks chasing ghosts and whispers, and now that they'd finally come to a place where they could hear Vascaroon's voice, the ancient hero was passing sentence over their fate from the grave.

With a frown, Seifer wadded up the paper and tossed it to the ground before following the others out.

Back at the camp, the Galbadians had returned and Lt. Gilder was waiting for them at the edge of the firelight, his visor down and his arms crossed.

He smiled as they approached. "You're out late. Find something interesting?"

"Were you waiting for us?" Quistis asked.

"Was just hoping you'd get back in time for dinner."

She stopped in front of him, saying nothing.

"We're allies now," Gilder reminded her. "I'm trying to be helpful. Friendly."

"Uh-huh," Zell grunted.

Gilder glanced over Quistis' shoulder, the heat of his gaze penetrating out of his visor as it raked over them. Apparently satisfied that they were all empty handed, he stepped back and said, "It's still hot, anyway. Help yourselves."

Dinner turned out to be a stew made of boiled meat and local greens. It tasted sour and salty and didn't settle well in Seifer's stomach. He watched Quistis across the fire as she ate out of a tin camp bowl with the same grace she used with fine china. She'd perfected the illusion of flawless purity. But he knew now that she'd lied to him when she'd told him in Balamb that she'd never heard of a guardian force dying before. He hadn't really thought her capable of it before, but cruelty and deceit lurked under all that blonde hair and pale skin.

Once Zell and the professor had settled into their tent for the night, he walked around to the other side of the fire and sat down beside to her. She was halfway though a game of triple triad with Raijin, and when the game reached its inevitable conclusion, she claimed one of Raijin's malboro cards, then glanced at him.

"You want to play?"

"Not really."

Raijin glanced between them, his expression tense.

"I...uh..." He cleared his throat. "I'm feeling pretty tired, ya know? I think maybe I'm just going to hit the hay. You should go, too, Fujin. You look really exhausted, ya know?"

Fujin snarled and punched him in the arm. "UGLY?"

"What? No! I just meant...some sleep would do you good."

She hit him again.

"I need to talk to you," Seifer said to Quistis.

"About what?"

"_Odin._"

Fujin quickly decided that she was just as exhausted as Raijin had hinted, and the pair vanished into their tents without even collecting all their triple triad cards. Seifer glanced after them, his stomach turning. They'd both always had a keen sense of when to cut their losses and retreat; Quistis wasn't going to have any good news for him.

"Don't make a scene," she said and grabbed his forearm.

"You lied to me," he replied. "When I asked about Tonberry, you looked me right in the fucking eye and lied."

"Not exactly."

"Just tell me what I want to know. And the truth this time," he said, pulling out of her grip to clutch her in his own. He felt more in control like this, crushing her between his hands so tightly that he knew it had to be painful. "On the Lunatic Pandora, did I kill Odin?"

She winced, the firelight playing across her face in a way that could have been beautiful. "_Yes_."

"How?" he demanded a little too loudly. "How could I do something that I don't even know how to do?"

"No one knows how you did it. It was our last battle with you. Right when it started, Odin showed up. And you just...you cut him in half."

He let her go and swore.

"You seemed perfectly coherent at the time," Quistis said. "At least, as coherent as you ever seem to be. You don't remember it? Are you saying you were possessed like Edea was?"

"I wasn't possessed!" he snapped. "God. Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Forgive me for assuming you knew."

"You knew I didn't."

"I guess I didn't think you'd care."

"I wouldn't have." _Not until now, anyway_.

He paced away from her and then back once he found that he had nowhere else to go. What difference did it make anyway? Whether he'd been the one to do it or not, Odin was dead.

"Why didn't you just tell the Galbadians and get them off our backs?" he asked.

"Because I'm not convinced yet."

"Convinced of what?"

"That this is over. We still have conflicting stories. Jorgan E'Lizul said the weapon was in Trabia. And Odin was in Centra. We don't know yet which story is accurate. And until we do, we should be careful and play our cards close."

"You think Odin wasn't the one who killed Hyne?"

She shrugged. "Maybe it's something about his sword. Or maybe it's something fundamental about guardian forces. We don't have nearly enough information yet to say that this is the end."

Seifer shook his head, her logic soothing but unable to completely assuage the unfamiliar guilt he was feeling. After Ultimecia, everything had been set so miraculously right that he'd been able to let go of his shame. The second Balamb Garden had flown over him on the docks, he'd known that everything was okay and he'd had nothing left to feel sorry for.

This was different.

This was his fault.

Time compression, sorceresses from the future, resurrecting an ancient God -- he supposed it wasn't exactly something he could have seen coming. But he did know that she couldn't have done it without him. And all for dreams. He tried to remember what they'd been about, to gauge whether they'd been worth all the trouble, but the floating, vacant feeling the memories gave him was unnerving.

"Listen..." Quistis put a hand on his shoulder. "I don't think this is over. Okay? We'll keep looking."

Being comforted by her felt strange, more so because he'd never felt the need for comfort before than that she was the one delivering it. Still, he let the warmth of her hand seep through the fabric of his shirt for a moment.

"I was thinking, if it's something about Odin that helped him kill Hyne," Quistis whispered, "then maybe Gilgamesh could do it, too. He's another guardian force we have, and he has Odin's sword. If we don't find anything else, we should go back to Esthar and get Dr. Odine's opinion."

"What good would that do?"

"He knows more about sorceresses, magic, and guardian forces than anyone else on the planet. Don't underestimate him. The man's a genius."

"I haven't. I just don't trust him."

"He's got nothing to gain by letting Hyne destroy the world. We can trust him to save his own skin. He's usually got his own best interests at heart." She touched her arm where he'd grabbed her as if to say _just like you_.

He turned his back on her and the fire, not sure why he'd been so at ease with her the night before and couldn't seem to look her in the eye now. He needed time to think. Looking out over the ruin, he knew that he'd never been in a place better suited for solitary reflection. Still, he hoped as he walked away, toward the baths, that Quistis would follow.

She didn't. So he sat down on the cool, flagstone floor where he'd held her the night before. And for the first time in years, he felt completely alone.

0 0 0

Dr. Odine had a plan.

He'd run it through computer simulations and cross-referenced it with all the information he'd received from Deling City, and he was more certain than ever that it was going to work. The computer was spitting out a probability of around fifty-fifty, but Odine had never quite managed to get the program to recognize and incorporate his own blazing brilliance into calculations, so he figured the scales were actually tipped significantly in his favor.

"Package for you," Nik Vallen said as he walked into Odine's lab, a shoebox sized parcel in one hand.

Odine snatched the box away, ripped the brown wrapping paper off, and tore it open. A bone was inside, nestled in a dense nest of packing peanuts and wrapped in a discarded woman's t-shirt. It wasn't large, slightly longer than Odine's hand. A note was pinned to the shirt, feminine script on a piece of pale yellow stationary:

_Best I could find. Hope it works for you -- was a lot of trouble to get. You owe me extra for this one._

"What's that?" Nik asked.

"From ze god-beast in Deling City," Odine replied. He rolled across his lab on his chair, clamped one end of the bone in a vice, and snapped the end off to reveal the spongy marrow inside. He plucked a bit of material out with tweezers and rolled back across his lab once again to drop it in a vial of pale blue liquid.

Nothing happened, and Odine grunted.

"What?"

"Nothing. Go back to work."

Nik walked away. And Odine swirled his test tube once more, just to make sure the reaction just hadn't been delayed. Still nothing. That wasn't good. The bit of tissue that Nancy had forwarded him from Galbadia had degraded so quickly that it wasn't unusable by the time it had reached him. He'd hoped a bone might be able to confirm what type of magic the god beasts had at their disposal. He'd expected his test to have mixed results -- the moon was an entirely foreign place, they were bound to have certain powers not available on earth -- but no results at all had come as a surprise.

He considered calling Nancy and telling her that she must have made a mistake, this was obviously a bone from a fish, or from one of the Galbadian soldiers who had fallen on the beach that day, but his time abruptly ran out.

The small television sitting propped on a stack of Odine's books announced, "We're going now to a special address from President Laguna Loire," breaking off from the monotonous twenty-four hour news it had quietly been broadcasting moments before. Laguna's calm, smiling face appeared on the screen. Flash bulbs made him look older, his eyes greener.

Headmaster Cid had arrived in Esthar, and Laguna Loire was formally announcing the presence of SeeD and the purpose of their mission. The whole city would be distracted for the next hour.

Outside, Odine found Nik and Reiss already waiting for him, the truck running. Odine climbed into the cab and sat between them. Then they were driving slowly down the empty streets of Esthar. Their exit into the surrounding desert went completely unnoticed, and Odine pushed his last minute experiment out of his mind and his resolve hardened into deep commitment once again.

The power-relay station Nik drove to sat near the edge of the salt flats and Odine could see the dark outlines of ancient bone heaps beyond the shimmer of Esthar's protective fence. He stood near the barrier, the ambient static making his clothes feel sticky, and directed Nik and Reiss as they began setting the trap.

By nightfall, they had everything in place and switched on. Odine noted with satisfaction that they had finished in less time than he'd allotted. His plan was elegant in its simplicity, aided in a great part by some of his most recent inventions. Once he was sure that everything was ready, he nodded to Reiss who vanished into the power-relay station. Minutes later, the fence flickered and died, leaving their trap open to the cold, bare salt flats.

Odine waited in the truck, pressing a pair of night-vision binoculars to his face that colored the sky, moon, and ground in varying shades of green. He was patient and centered, suspended like a fish at the bottom of a lake grown hoary with long fingers of algae. The night ticked by, and aside from a gathering wind, the flats remained motionless. Eventually, Odine found himself drifting off into thoughts about what he could do with the god beast once he caught it. He suspected that it was something like a guardian force, that it could be harnessed and controlled, and that with a few experiments he could make millions overnight.

His thoughts were interrupted by Reiss's voice over the radio: "Looks like the wind blew over a dampener or two. I'm going to check it out."

Odine swore under his breath. The amount of materials that went into making one of his lab-grade dampeners could make upward of a dozen Odine bangles or up to three commercial brand dampeners like the ones he sold to Galbadian prisons. His finances weren't tight, but he couldn't afford to have one blow down into a ravine either.

After a few minutes, he hailed Reiss.

"Iz it intact?"

There was no response.

"Reiss? Nik?"

Silence.

With a heavy sigh, Odine straightened his collar and got out of the truck, slamming the door behind him. Outside, the wind briefly robbed him of breath. It tasted like winter rain. His legs were rubbery from sitting in the truck so long, and with the short stride he already had, the walk to the semi-circle of magic dampeners seemed torturously long. Through his binoculars, he finally spotted his two assistants coming down the far side of a small coulee between their trap and the salt flats.

He radioed them again: "What iz happening?"

"Lost a whole line of them," Reiss replied. "We put them back up and are on our way back."

Odine lifted his binoculars again and began inspecting the whole ring. Chances were a few others were down as well, and the smallest dead zone could compromise the whole plan. As he worked through the wide arc, counting slowly, he thought the wind shifted a little -- became warmer, gentler. And it was no longer fresh; there was something sour and sharp to it now. Odine paused and took a deep breath.

It smelled like dogs, he decided.

A blush of anxiety bloomed across the back of his neck as if someone had dribbled hot honey there, then trickled down his spine and settled in his belly.

Seconds later, he was aware of his feet leaving the ground and his collar pulling tight against his throat as a massive force grabbed hold of him, then with his eyes closed he saw nothing but flashes of color firing in the blackness -- red, blue, lightning streaks of green laced with fear.

And then he hit the ground and saw nothing but black.

0 0 0

Irvine rested his gun against his shoulder and started climbing up the spinal column of some long dead beast that had eroded out of the crystalline hillside of the salt flats like a gruesome staircase. The wind whipped his coat hard against his legs. Behind him, Selphie grumbled and kept her distance from the snapping ends. The night was cool and clear. When Irvine reached the top of the fossil, he could see all the way back to the desert. Selphie came up beside him and pulled her jacket tight at her throat.

"See anything?" Irvine asked.

"Nope."

"Same here."

They'd been patrolling for hours already. Irvine's feet were starting to ache. While Cid was in conferences with government officials and making public statements, all the SeeDs in Esthar had been charged with combing the salt flats to look for any sign of the monster that had been sighted there. So far Irvine hadn't seen the slightest trace of a living thing, but there were a lot of places to hide.

"Maybe that monster in Galbadia was the only one," Selphie said.

Irvine shrugged. He'd considered that possibility more than once. But no one was taking any chances.

"Xu," he said into his radio. "What've you got?"

"Nothing. We're almost to the sea."

"Think we should come back in?" Irvine asked.

"Give it another hour," Xu replied.

In another hour, the sun was going to come up. And by the time they made it back to the city, someone would be demanding they head out again. Irvine was tired. He wanted to go back to his room at the Presidential Palace and sleep for a few hours, maybe take a scalding hot shower. At least he was out here with Selphie, he thought as he climbed from the fossil onto a ledge. Not that they were speaking much. She wasn't hostile, really. Just quiet. Irvine wasn't used to feeling uncomfortable around her; it was a strain to keep up the pretense that her silence didn't bother him.

For another hour, they trudged together until Xu finally radioed them in. Nothing was lurking, waiting to attack the city in the salt flats -- that much was incredibly clear. Irvine hadn't even seen an abadon.

When they met up with the other teams, dawn was breaking weakly on the horizon. Xu tossed Irvine a set of keys.

"Let's drive around and into the desert to the east," she said. "Just to make sure we've covered everything not blocked by the fence. I don't want to have a gap in our report and then have to come back out here."

"Sure. I'll follow you."

The Estharan trucks they were using were huge and difficult to manage. Irvine had a hard time not bouncing everyone out of their seats in the back as he drove cross-country behind Xu. Selphie held onto a handle over the door with one hand and gripped the buckle of her seatbelt with the other.

"Hey, Irvine. Selphie," Xu's voice came across their radio as her break-lights came on. "I'm stopping up here. There's something weird."

"Weird? Like...what?" Irvine asked.

"I don't know."

A strange sensation came across Irvine as they stopped, a weakness similar to what he'd felt when the giant snake had eaten Tonberry alive. He was out of the truck before he recognized what it was: a magic dampening field. Selphie trotted beside Irvine as he joined Xu.

"Feels kinda like the D-District Prison in Galbadia," Selphie said, rubbing her arms.

Xu scowled. "Odine."

Xu ordered the rest of the SeeDs to stay behind and stepped from salt-soaked earth onto tawny desert. Irvine and Selphie followed. Entering the dead zone was like walking into a thick fog. Irvine shook his head to clear it as all of his magic and his guardian force recede far past his grasp.

"Oh! Over there! Look!" Selphie lifted herself onto her toes and pointed. "I bet you that thing's doing it!"

Usually, Irvine didn't mind being unjunctioned. But standing next to the magic dampener was oppressive, like standing next to a black hole slowly sucking life away. Xu searched for some way to turn it off for several agonizing minutes before Irvine elbowed her out of the way and fired three bullets straight into the machine's guts. They all sighed with relief as it sputtered and died.

Further into the desert, they discovered a whole circuit of dampeners. There were too many for Irvine to destroy each one individually, so when he spotted a truck parked on top of a rise overlooking the whole area, they started toward it, hoping the find the one man who could possibly be responsible.

"I bet he was trying to catch the damn thing," Xu said. "Probably was going to seal it up like he did with Adel and Rinoa so that he could study it."

The truck was empty when they reached it, although the passenger side door was hanging open, hinges creaking in the wind. Xu peeked into the truck before slamming it shut.

"No one here."

The back was loaded with semi-automatic weapons, boxes of tranquilizers, links of industrial chain, and something that Irvine didn't recognize but supposed was part of a high-tech sealing system. While Xu and Selphie climbed in and poked through what was there, Irvine circled around to the other side of the truck and was looking out toward the dawn when a large bird soared over his shoulder, circled in front of the sun, then dropped to the ground where it disturbed at least five others that took to the air and then landed a few feet away.

"Hey guys..." Irvine emptied his gun and re-loaded his gun with shotgun shells. "You better come check this out."

Selphie leapt gracefully from the back of the truck and jogged to catch up with him as he started toward the now gathering flock of black birds. The _huff_ of flapping wings and throaty cries was intense up close, so Irvine pointed his gun and fired it over their heads. They scattered in a wild cacophony of feathers, laying bare the small, ragged form on the ground.

"Oh God." Irvine stopped.

The face was no longer recognizable, but the torn, pinwheel collar arching up into the air was enough to identify the body. Odine was bent at an odd angle, like his back had been broken. Dead, he seemed so small. Just a tiny, delicate man, who'd lost everything that had ever made him intimidating with his last breath. Irvine felt a swell of pity for him.

Xu swore and grabbed her radio from her jacket pocket.

"Headmaster Cid," she said as she depressed one of the side buttons. "Come in, this is Xu."

"Cid here." His voice was sharp with excitement; they were only supposed to contact him with urgent news.

"We found Dr. Odine. He's dead. He let down a section of fence out here and put up a trap, but it looks like this monster got the better of him."

Cid didn't reply for a long time, and Irvine belatedly realized what Xu was saying.

"The monster is now within the barrier?"

"Looks like it."

"Bring your teams back _at once_. I'll scramble the military and get the Ragnarok in the air. Out."

Xu pocketed her radio. "We'll have to leave the body here. No time to take it back now."

Selphie frowned. "He couldn't have done all this by himself, Xu. There are probably other people out here, too."

"Doesn't matter. There's a whole lot more people back in the city. Let's go."

Irvine thought Xu was probably right. If anyone else had been helping Odine, they were either already dead or well on their way there. They sprinted back across the desert to where the trucks were waiting loaded with curious SeeDs.

Xu spun her tires, throwing up a cloud of brine, and then drove right through the gap in the fence, steering wide of Odine's mangled body. Irvine had a hard time keeping up with her.

"Irvy," Selphie said from the passenger seat where she was struggling to keep from getting strangled by the seatbelt that had locked tight around her. "I know this is _totally _the wrong time and everything, but I just thought you should know that...it's not that I don't like you, okay?"

"What?"

"I _do_ like you," she repeated emphatically. "It just wouldn't work out."

He wasn't sure what to say. They'd been alone together all night long, and she chose _this_ moment to have a personal conversation? Distracted by her, he drove the truck right through an imp wallow, earning him angry shouts from the back.

"Sefie, I swear we'll talk about this. Just, like...after we've killed the monster."

The Ragnarok was already circling high above the city by the time they arrived on the outskirts of town. Two other ships were flying in a holding pattern as well, one black and one blue. Even from the ground, Irvine could see their huge canons primed and ready. Sirens were blaring, and a disembodied voice was telling everyone to take shelter in the nearest building. It looked a lot like the city had right after the lunar cry.

They were about to cross into left Esthar when they were stopped by a military blockade set up at the junction leading to the government district. Overhead, the Ragnarok roared by as Xu hopped out of her truck and approached the group of soldiers.

"What's going on here?" she asked. "We need to get through."

"We're sectioning off the city," he replied. "Hoping we can keep this thing isolated."

"Any idea where it's at right now?" she asked.

"No one has spotted it yet. We're going to do systematic sweeps to locate it."

Irvine could smell fear thick on the morning air. The soldiers were uneasy; they didn't stand a chance against the god beast, and they knew it.

"Okay. I'm going to leave two of my people here to join your patrol," Xu told the soldier, then waved two SeeDs off the back of her truck and walked up to Irvine's window. "I'd like to see that every patrol in town has SeeD reinforcements. Drop off at least two people with every one of them, then pick whichever one you want to join and let me know. I'm going to head back to the Presidential Palace and let Cid know."

"Sounds like a good idea," Irvine agreed.

Touring Esthar took most of the morning. Their last stop was the shopping district. Aside from the roaming patrol, the mall was completely empty when they got there. All the shops were closed, some of them abandoned in such haste that their signs still read "open." Irvine put their truck in park, pulled his hat low on his head, and smiled across the front seat at Selphie.

"Let's go find this thing."

0 0 0

By late afternoon, Irvine was getting frustrated. They'd been combing the city for hours, and no one had seen anything. In fact, the only thing Esthar seemed to be in danger from was itself. Half a dozen patrols had reported in with incidents of friendly fire, one of which had resulted in a fatality. His stomach rumbled as he walked up a residential street, reminding him that he hadn't eaten in over twelve hours.

"Hey, Selphie." He came up behind her, brushing her elbow with his fingers.

"Yeah?"

"Let's double back to the mall."

"Why? We've already cleared that area."

"Yeah. I know. But...it's a god beast, you know? It could have like...slipped by us."

She pinched her lips together, and then reluctantly agreed though Irvine suspected she knew what he was planning. They were both exhausted. Once committed, she seemed grateful for the momentary respite.

In the mall, Irvine found a vending machine and began stuffing gil into it. "You want something? I'll share with you." He pushed the button for chocobo puffs, knowing they were her favorite, and cursed when the bag got caught in the rotating metal spring and didn't fall to the bottom. "Oh, hell. Come on!"

He kicked the machine hard, rocking it back against the wall. And almost instantly the glass splintered above his head with a thunderous report.

"Irvy! Get down!" Selphie was on his back, hauling him to the ground. Two more shots whizzed above their heads, and then Irvine lost count until he heard the click of a gun hammer impacting an empty chamber.

Selphie was up and casting before Irvine even got his thoughts together.

"Slow!"

Their attacker, an Esthar soldier, faltered when the spell hit him but kept moving toward them as if he were running through waist-deep water. Selphie launched at him, her Strange Vision flying.

"Selphie! Hold on!" Irvine yelled as he got to his feet.

Selphie knocked the solider to the ground where he struggled to get up under the heavy weight of the slow spell and then kicked him hard in the side of the head, her boot glancing off his helmet. She was in a fury.

"You could've killed us!"

"Selphie!" Irvine grabbed her, surprised at the sheer strength she levied against him trying to break free.

"I thought you were a god-damned monster!" the solider cried out from the ground. "What're you two doing back here anyway? This area was cleared!"

"So you can just shoot at anything moving then?" Selphie demanded, her voice choked from Irvine's grasp. "We could have been civilians!"

"Calm down," Irvine barked at both of them.

He turned Selphie away from the soldier as she started to kick again and caught a glimpse of her in a reflective store window. Her face was flushed pink, her chest was heaving, and the wild glint in her eyes was instantly familiar. Somehow, she'd gotten hit with berserk. Irvine quickly pressed a hand to her steaming face. She struggled against him, pushing one hand against his throat, raking her other one down his back as he cast an esuna spell on her.

She groaned and the falling adrenaline haze left her pupils abnormally dilated. Holding her up with one arm, Irvine cast an esuna on the solider, too.

"I know she's small, but berserking a SeeD still isn't your best tactic," he said to the man. "I didn't even know you guys carried status magic anyway."

"Berserking? What are you talking about?"

Irvine was contemplating how to reply when five more soldiers ran by, all of them yelling. "There! It's over there! Get it!"

Irvine watched them dart into an alleyway not far from where he was standing. A storm of gunfire erupted seconds later. Not sure whether to intervene or not, he stood and watched until a soldier came flying across the mall, impacted with a neon sign, and came crashing down to the sidewalk in a hail of glass and wire.

Something big and black chased after the body, skidding up to it on massive paws that left dark streaks of blood behind on the blue road. Irvine and Selphie both started, and so did the monster: something like a wolf, only the size of a horse, with thick fur that was growing up and around a length of gnarled chain wrapped around the beast's neck.

The Estharan soldier scrambled backward, toward the vending machine. "Holy shit!"

Irvine clutched Selphie close as he felt her shudder, the berserker rage coming over her again.

The wolf looked Irvine in the eye, blinked, and then ran in the opposite direction, leaving behind a trail of bloody prints it that abruptly sublimated into a mist and vanished like nothing more than a shadow had walked there. Another esuna through Selphie, and Irvine was reaching for his radio.

"Xu, this is Irvine. We just spotted it in the mall. It's heading northwest**. **Instruct all SeeDs to equip against berserk."

"Copy that, Irvine," Xu responded. "Pursue. We'll meet you."

Without a second thought, Irvine left the soldier behind and hauled Selphie down the street by the arm. "Can you protect yourself?" he asked her, the impact of his feet on the ground giving his words an unsettling cadence.

She shook her head. "I don't have any berserk spells."

Irvine was maxed out on his, perfectly junctioned for once. He hadn't been in Deling City and had felt the lingering effects of the giant snake's toxins for hours after it had been purged from his system. If this monster exuded madness the same way the other had poison, then he didn't feel safe taking Selphie near it again unless she was protected. He stopped her and came to a snap a decision.

"Take half of mine."

"What?"

"Take half. Here, I'll give them to you. Then we both have a fifty-fifty chance."

"Irvy. No. I don't think a fifty-fifty chance is going to help us any here. You should keep them. At least then one of us will be thinking clearly."

They didn't have time to argue like this.

He grabbed her hand and forced the spells into her. He'd never transferred magic before when the other person was resisting, and it felt terribly violent. As soon as he was done, he backed away, horrified by the way he had trespassed in the deep recesses of her mind. But she didn't hit him or even yell. Instead, she stared through him for a moment, adjusting to the new weight of spells in her mind, and then came back to reality with a slow nod.

"We're going to lose the trail," she said quietly. "Come on. We should hurry."

The blue resin road seemed to slide under Irvine's feet like a treadmill as they ran past darkened houses and vacant office complexes. It led them up and crossed over another road where a group of soldiers were arguing. The situation deteriorated rapidly, and within minutes, the group was little more than a twisting storm cloud of boots, helmets, and fists.

In front of a cracked granite pedestal that had once held a statue of Adel, Irvine and Selphie met a red-faced, completely out of breath Xu.

"I didn't see anything," she panted. "Where is it?"

"We didn't catch up to it," Irvine replied.

Xu growled a little under her breath. "The thing's like a damn ghost!"

Irvine leaned one palm against the cool pedestal to take a few deep breaths as well. "I think if we don't get it soon, the whole town's going to go crazy."

"What do you mean?"

"It makes people go totally nuts. It just has to sneak around for a little while longer and the whole city will tear itself apart."

"I instructed everyone who could to protect themselves against berserk. I'm at about seventy-five percent. But all the Esthar soldiers are going to be completely susceptible."

Selphie nodded. "Yeah. No kidding. One of 'em almost winged me and Irvy a few minutes ago,"

"Okay. Let's try and follow the chaos then," said Xu.

They began patrolling with these new guidelines in mind, the now rising frequency of friendly fire injuries coming across their radios providing plenty of possible locations. After following up on several incidents and finding nothing, Selphie came up with an idea.

"We're getting to all these places way too late. How about we get someone to monitor all the channels, plot the data, and figure out where this thing is heading instead of where it's been?"

Xu communicated her idea to Cid who assigned one of the Ragnarok crew members as well as several of Odine's assistants still at his lab to run the calculations. An hour later, Cid called them with the results: the wolf appeared to be moving primarily in circles, occasionally contracting or expanding on the same basic circuit that cut through areas of dense construction, several parks, and the government district. The computer models from both the Ragnarok and Odine's lab agreed the god beast was on its way to Point Park.

They took a lift there, zipping over the city at a speed that left Irvine's stomach far behind. Point Park was unnaturally dense with trees brought into the city from around the world. Twisting dirt paths cut through the foliage back to a small, old cemetery dating back to colonial times. Usually, the park was choked with people trying to escape the constant buzz and whirr of Esthar. But today it was eerily vacant.

"I'll take that path," Xu said, gesturing to the right. "You two go that way. I'll meet you on the other side."

Selphie walked beside Irvine in silence as they followed their trail into the sun-speckled quiet. The atmosphere deep inside the trees was pleasant, filled with the scent of old leaves, fresh sap, and damp loam.

"This could be pretty romantic," Irvine said. With a sideways glance, he saw Selphie's hand bunch at her side. "Under other circumstances, I mean."

"Is that all you think about?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Girls."

"I'm a guy. It's kind of what we do."

"Even when we're hunting a wolf through the middle of Esthar, it's all you're thinking about."

"That's not true."

Selphie stopped, shaded her eyes to peer through the trees, and huffed. "Commit to something for once, Irvy, and help me find this monster."

Her comment struck a tiny spark of anger in him that grew into a solid, slow burning flame. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Irvy! Start looking. You're not helping."

He walked up to her, grabbed her by the arm, and spun her around to face him. "You think I can't commit? I've been committed to you since we were four years old!"

"You don't act much like it."

"You don't act much like you want me to."

Her jaw twitched as she gritted her teeth and her cheeks flushed rosy pink. She didn't have any right to be angry, Irvine thought. He'd been hopelessly in love with her his entire life. The only reason he wasn't married to her now was that she was constantly rebuffing his every advance. He wanted to slap the hostile expression off her face, knock some sense into her scattered little brain.

It hit him then as the violent thought ripped through his brain that he'd never once considered hitting a woman before.

"Selphie," he whispered, hardly daring to move his lips at all. "The god beast. I think it's here."

Suddenly, the wolf crashed through the trees at them. Irvine barely saw it coming. And then his arm was locked vice-like between its jaws, hot blood trickling down his side, pooling on the ground where the monster's paws crushed the grass to black, matted fragments of decay. He thought he heard Selphie scream. But for a long moment, all he saw was the god beast's eyes, unblinking, devil-yellow.

His shoulder dislocated with a sickening pop as the wolf shook him and before he could register the pain he was being hauled across the ground, over tree-roots and rocks as Selphie harassed the beast with spells. He could hear her calling them out one after another: blizzard, tornado, thunder, death.

The wolf shouldered a tree as it passed and lost its grip so that Irvine tumbled free, rolling once over his injured arm and then coming to rest on his back. Overhead, the sky darkened and Selphie stopped in front of him, her arm held out, her stance wide. She was summoning.

Diablos collected himself from an oily ooze that rained down and hung like a spider's web from the tree branches. The demon stretched, growled, and burst free with an acidic hiss. He floated unnaturally above the ground without moving his wings, as if repelled by the ground itself.

The god beast took immediate notice. Its fur rose in a line straight down its backbone and it bared teeth that were still wet with Irvine's blood.

"Be careful," Selphie instructed her guardian force. "It can kill you."

Diablos gave no indication that he'd heard her. Instead, he thrust his clawed hand up toward the sky and collected from the remnants of the web that had spawned him a black ball bubbling with broken bits of time and power. He hadn't finished when the wolf leapt at him, grabbing hold of one leathery wing and slamming the both of them back into an oak tree that rained down leaves the wolf's broad back. Irvine scrambled to get out of the way. Diablos's cries made him feel faint. He clamped a hand tightly around the bite wound on his limp arm, focused by the pain and a brief restoration of blood pressure.

"Irvy! Where's your gun?" Selphie ran by him.

"I...I don't know. I dropped it when it grabbed me."

She dove into a bush treacherously close to the battling pair of monsters. The wolf still had the upper hand, its teeth sunk deep now into the reptilian flesh of Diablos's thigh, fracturing all the scales around the wound. Irvine drank a potion, spilled another directly across his arm, frantic to re-join the battle. But then Selphie emerged with Exeter in her arms. She locked a pulse ammo round in place, ran right up to the wolf, and fired it into him at point blank range so that the bullet sliced hot through the beast's flank with a spray of black blood.

The wolf's startled howl gave Diablos enough time to gain the upperhand. With a wicked grin, he gripped the wolf's jaws and pulled them so forcefully apart his hand was impaled on the mandible when it ripped free. A crack so loud that Irvine thought Selphie had fired another round signaled the end of the god beast. Neck broken, it slumped to the ground.

Diablos teetered for a moment, one clawed hand gripping his grievous wounds, then wrapped a tattered wing around himself and dissolved with a flash into a dozen bats that flew screaming into the sky.

And Selphie stood in the middle of it all, gun in one hand, nunchaku in the other, a warrior still heaving with the berserker rage of battle.

0 0 0

Rinoa didn't know where she was, but it was pleasant. Nothing to worry about here. Nothing to feel at all, in fact. Just soft, warm darkness stretching in every direction.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been drifting for when a wave of anxiety washed over her, knotting her stomach and twisting her brain around itself. A brief flash of clarity followed. The pain roused Rinoa, reminded her of life and her body, until she opened her eyes and saw the hills of Centra stretching open before her. Squall was there working his deft hands over his gunblade as he cleaned it. And Hyne was there, too, but distracted.

"Squall?" Her lips moved slowly, heavy.

He looked up at her -- so beautiful.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He frowned a little and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Nothing. Everything's fine."

It had been fine. Now it wasn't. And Rinoa couldn't figure out why. What had changed? She felt weighted down by the trappings of her body and upset. She didn't want to be here, didn't want to share her mind with Hyne anymore. Maybe it hadn't really been hers to begin with, she thought. She felt so disturbingly out of place that believing she'd never been Rinoa Heartilly at all was strangely comforting.

This wasn't her; this was Hyne.

Only Squall held her in place. He was an anchor to this place and this time. And now that she could see him sitting across from her again, she didn't want to leave without him. She could go anywhere, do anything, be anyone...but not without him. She wanted to crawl across the sand to him and beg him to grab hold of her and keep her soul from sprouting fresh wings and flying away.

_You're lucky, little girl,_ Hyne told her._ Go back and stay. He won't be far behind, but he has things to do here first_.

Hyne's usually powerful voice was melancholy, like middle C struck sharp. Something bad had happened.

_Go_, Hyne urged her again. _You're free of this now._

Rinoa sighed out a weighty breath, closed her eyes, and didn't draw in another. Her chest ached for a heartbeat, and then everything was gone: the crackle of the camp fire, the scent of wood smoke and sand, the wind on her face. Even Squall. Rinoa vowed she'd remember him this time -- she'd never let him go, and she'd find him again.

But then the darkness closed in around her, so soothing and just right. And everything that defined her slipped away.

Why'd she ever want to leave anyway? This was heaven.


	23. This Love is a Strange Love

A/N: Special thanks to Mynd's Matter for enduring a solid week's worth of listening to me worry over the contents of this chapter; and, of course, to my beta Zachere as well for being amazing in general

Chapter 22: This Love is a Strange Love

Desert nights were noisy, especially in the river valley. But Seifer was a light sleeper and the steady crunch of approaching footsteps roused him from a dreamless sleep despite the chatter of dust beetles and the distant howl of a coyote. He rolled onto his back, kicked his sleeping bag open, and scrambled for Hyperion. A shadow fell across the front of his tent right as his fingers closed around the gunblade's hilt.

The zipper slid down and a blonde head peeked through the gap, haloed by the full moon beyond. "Seifer? Raijin?"

"Hell, Chicken Wuss. I just about took your damn head off. What the fuck's so important that you think you can bust into my tent in the middle of the night?"

"The professor wants to meet with everybody."

"Now?"

"Yeah. In our tent in five minutes."

"Why can't it wait until morning?"

"Because it's _secret_." Zell's head whipped back through the tent opening and Seifer heard him walking away, his heavy steps disturbing a large beetle that landed with a dull thud on the side of the tent. Maliciously, Seifer flicked it off and kicked Raijin awake.

"Wuss and the professor got something they want to say to us," he explained when his friend's eyes finally cracked open. "Get up. Come on."

They didn't bother to change before jogging the distance to Zell's tent and were the first to arrive. Across the camp, Seifer could see Zell's ass in the air as he poked his head into Quistis and Fujin's tent as well. Fujin had either known about the meeting in advance or was preternaturally prepared for midnight events, because she arrived within seconds of Zell. Quistis was somewhat more flustered; she arrived last, barefoot, hair tangled, in a pair of too short flannel shorts and a tank top that did nothing to hide the way the cool evening made her body tighten.

Seifer suppressed a groan when she sat down next to him and then leaned over him to zip the flap shut.

"God. Sit the hell down," he whispered. "I'll get it."

"Let's get started," Zell suggested. "The faster we get through this, the less time the Galbadians have to notice."

"It's the dead of night in the middle of goddamn nowhere. No one is going to notice," Seifer grumbled.

Raijin yawned. "Yeah. I want to go back to bed, ya know? Hope this is important."

"It is," Dr. Shipey quietly assured him. "I called you here because we're at a dead-end."

"You mean you're done?" Quistis asked.

"Under any other circumstances, I'd say that research of this scope and magnitude should take years to complete and not just a matter of days. There's still a lot of material here that I haven't had the chance to even touch, but from what I've seen so far, I don't think we're going to find much more of any immediate use. We've learned all we can here."

"And what have we learned exactly?" Quistis asked.

"That we're screwed," Seifer said. "Right?"

Dr. Shipey shuffled through some papers that he couldn't possibly read in the dark. "Possibly. According to this story, it was definitely Odin who killed Hyne. But the whole thing is very much caught up in Trabian myths, so it's difficult to separate the reality from their mythic understanding of it. See, Vascaroon already knew a legend about Hyne before 'the magician' appeared. He believed that right after the world was created, the creator was destroyed by the other gods to keep the world in balance -- a sort of dichotomy of life and death; the ancient Trabians were in love with opposing pairs. In order to protect the world, the gods then created a group of guardians called _archons_."

"Guardian forces?" Quistis guessed.

"I think so. Archons are essentially of this world, created separately but on the same level as physical reality. They're dependent upon matter to manifest themselves physically -- a person or an object. What Vascaroon calls Odin, however, is an _aeon_: a guardian that comes directly from heaven and not from the material world. Aeons have some sort of pre-existing path to the physical."

Seifer didn't see how any of this made any difference at all and couldn't believe Zell had gotten him up in the middle of the night to listen to yet another lecture. He glanced sideways at Quistis, but she was absorbed in what the professor was saying, her quick mind already wresting meaning from the facts.

"Vascaroon seems to have known exactly where to find Odin. It took him several weeks before he returned with the guardian force, but we've been looking longer than that with all of modern technology at our aid. Still, I don't think he knew quite what he had. Once he found Odin, he didn't immediately seek out Hyne."

"Why not?" Raijin asked.

"For one, I would guess that he didn't really care about what happened to Centra or King Zebalga. Also, there's no evidence that Vascaroon volunteered for this duty. I think it's likely he was selected. And I also believe that he was following a pre-existing tradition to seek out a guardian in troubled times -- many areas kept their own local guardians such as the bulls of Dollet. I don't think he had the same sense we do, that only one guardian could protect them from Hyne."

"So it's possible another guardian force like Odin would be able to do it?" Quistis asked. "Another aeon?"

"Maybe."

Quistis propped her chin in her hand and said, "Gilgamesh."

"What's that?"

"Another guardian force like Odin."

Shipey nodded, looking hopeful. "Who has him?"

"No one. He shows up when he wants to," Zell replied.

"Well, he sure as hell didn't make any appearance when we faced off against Rinoa and Squall on Balamb Garden," Seifer pointed out, wondering just how many guardian forces Garden had -- they'd apparently sprouted up like spring tulips after he'd left. "If the guy could do it, I think he would have by now...through Squall or something."

"Either way, we're still done here," Shipey said. "I think we should move on, maybe go back to Esthar like Quistis has suggested or head directly to Trabia."

Everyone agreed, Seifer by his silence, and their clandestine midnight meeting was over. Quistis stayed behind as everyone else left. Outside, instead of going straight back to his tent, Seifer walked to the edge of the ruin.

He'd looked out over the crumbling buildings, the winding river, and the rock pillars enough times in the past few days to know that the shadows and lines were all exactly the same: objectively, nothing had changed. Only it didn't feel the same to him as it had the night at the bath. It had been filled with something then. Hope, maybe. Or dreams. Both were gone now, and Seifer wasn't sure whether he missed them. Dreams had never taken him anywhere he cared to return to. But he kept stopping to look anyway with a compulsion that bordered on desperation.

"Hey." Quistis's soft voice drifted to him.

She was tiptoeing toward him, wincing when rocks bit into the soft soles of her bare feet.

"Why aren't you back in bed?"

"A sleeping bag on the ground doesn't exactly qualify as a _bed_."

She stopped next to him, crossed her arms, and locked her knees together. A chill raced across her exposed skin. "You can't sleep?"

"I sleep just fine," he replied.

Silence stretched between them. Then she sighed and said, "I can't believe I'm going to ask you this, but...are you okay?"

His first impulse was to brush her question off, but that was quickly overcome by the gripping desire to vomit out his thoughts like a disease. How could he be okay? He didn't even remember it, but he'd doomed the whole world to oblivion. And still he couldn't find a little bit of what he'd wanted in the first place: recognition, power, and fame. When the rising guilt began to seize him, he bucked against it, unwilling to give into the idea that he might really be responsible for the fate consuming Rinoa, Squall, Quistis...everyone. He didn't know how to reconcile it against who he thought he was.

"You've seemed sort of upset," Quistis continued when he didn't say anything. "I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but it'd be good for you to get a bit of it off your chest. Everyone needs to sometimes."

"I think I'll be okay without crying on your shoulder."

"I can't afford for you to _not_ be okay. We're all relying on you Seifer. You can't change what's already done. We've all got to deal with where we're at right _now_, and I think we all accept that. You should, too."

He rolled his eyes. What did she want from him? He was here, doing his part. Wasn't that enough?

"I think maybe it wouldn't be so bad to just let all of this blow away," he said. "This place. This whole damn existence. We could let it burn away like it never existed at all. Why stay here if the next world really is better?"

He'd hoped his comment would make her break off the pep-talk, but the open-mouthed look she gave him and the way she reached over and touched his arm made him feel like he was fucked in the head somehow. His uncertainty made him feel vulnerable and out of control, revolted at his own pathetic weakness. He scrambled to cover it now before she could draw more doubt to the surface.

"So, we gonna be leaving now?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Where are we going?"

"To Esthar."

"I'll stay here."

"And do what?"

"I don't know. Keep looking. That's a hell of a lot more useful than sitting around in goddamn Esthar."

"Why don't you just go to sleep and see how you feel about it in the morning?" she suggested. She took a step closer and looked up at him, her expression clear and honest. "I don't want to leave you behind."

He laughed. "Growing fond of me?"

"We're a team. We shouldn't let this break us up."

He trailed his finger along the edge of her tank top. "Break us up, huh? Sounds like you'd miss me."

"I don't know about that. Sometimes I still think I'd like to kill you."

She smiled. Then she clasped his hand in hers, cupped his cheek with the other one, and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

Time lagged behind the gesture. It stilled him inside, like water turned to glass. He relaxed, looped an arm around her, and pulled her against his chest so that her warm, pliable body formed to the harder planes of his own. The moonlight glanced kindly off her pale skin and her wide eyes, his open hand spanned across the small of her back to hold her close, and her hair smelled like wildflowers. He'd forgotten nothing about the way she felt against him, but he held her and drank in the details anyway until the urge to kiss her became overwhelming. He was methodical, starting with the curve of her bottom lip.

A feather sigh fanned across his mouth that was so sweet with abandonment that he couldn't resist breathing it in and he felt it trigger in him a physical rush of pleasure. He shivered, nearly groaned aloud when Quistis's hands clutched his shoulders and then played in his hair at the base of his skull. Suddenly, his kisses were no longer so controlled. He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her chin, even leaned over and bit her ear.

And it occurred to him as he slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt that they were standing within sight of the camp and at any moment someone could catch them. Raijin would be wondering what was keeping him, and Fujin might come looking for Quistis as well. What would they think if they saw this?

Probably whatever he told them to, he thought.

Her warm stomach pressed against his as he worked her shirt up higher. Then her fingernails sank into his back and his arm. He strained not to hold her tighter, closer, and kiss her until she scored the flesh from his bones.

"Seifer..."

He hooked a thumb on the top of her shorts and began easing them down.

"Seifer," she repeated, more urgently this time, and pushed back against his chest. "It's late."

"Yeah?"

"We're going to be traveling tomorrow. So, we should probably get to bed."

He grinned. "I'm happy right here."

"Well, I'm not. I'm cold, and my feet are killing me."

He glanced down at her toes, lacquered with nail polish and delicate, curled against the rough ground. Cupping her bottom with both hands, he lifted her up against his chest until she was standing on top of his feet. "Better?"

She shook her head.

"What's the matter? Are you afraid because there's no headmaster here to call and save you?"

"No. Not afraid." Despite her denial, he recognized the expression on her face -- he was intimately familiar with fear. "I'm just curious where you think we can go with this," she said.

"How about the baths?" He'd had more than one thought about that in the past few days.

"A stone floor and cold water aren't my idea of a romantic evening."

"Who said anything about romance? Okay. My tent, then. I'll kick Raijin out; he can crash with Fujin in yours."

He hoped she'd agree. Her body seemed eager enough for the attention -- after just a few kisses, she had look of a woman already going weak, warm, and wet. Plus, the idea of spending the night zipped into a sleeping bag with her appealed to him. Hoping to tip her judgment in the right direction, he used his grip on her rear to pivot her hips against his until she hummed in appreciation.

"Seifer?"

"What?" His voice was strained, their movements fanning the trembling desire burning within him.

She rested her head against his shoulder and held on tight. "I need you to stop."

"Why?" He continued, slow and deliberate.

"Because--" she began. "Because this isn't a good time."

"What the hell's the point?" he demanded, his hands moving rough and insistent against her skin now. "You want to get all sentimental and wait until the perfect moment? When do think it's gonna be? When we're on that damn space ship going back to Esthar? Or maybe while we're fighting Hyne? We're all going to die, Quistis. There isn't going to be a perfect time."

Something in the way she was reacting to him went cold. "Maybe it's not worth it if you can't wait."

Lust sublimated into rage in the span of a single breath. He dropped her and she stumbled. "You know, it probably isn't."

Quistis lifted her hand to slap him, but he caught her by the wrist and pressed a wrathful kiss there.

"You probably couldn't handle it anyway," he continued cruelly. "Riding me all night and then a chocobo all day? It'd kill you."

"This is who you really are, isn't it?" she hissed. "All the kisses and gentleness is just a disguise you wear, like you pretend to be a hero. But _this _is what's really under there. I don't think I _want_ to know you any better than I do right now."

He dropped her hand and scowled. "Maybe you should climb into Zell's bed if you want a whipping boy."

Walking away, he didn't head back to his tent but circled around the other side of the camp and down to where the chocobos were roosting. He was too tense to sleep now, and the idea of lying down alone for the rest of the night to dream of her honey-blonde hair thick between his fingers, her tongue hot on his body, and her heart pounding out a rhythm against his own was unthinkable. _God damn_. He splashed cold water from the river on his face. This was fucking hell.

0 0 0

The city of Esthar had a public wake for Dr. Odine. His body sat in a closed casket in the lobby of his lab for four days while mourners came by, leaving behind bunches of flowers and notes written on colored bits of paper. Irvine picked one up and read it when he walked through. As a SeeD, he knew quite well how transient memory could be, but the mass amnesia that struck Esthar surprised even him. No one breathed a word about the role Odine had played in the city's turbulent history. And while Irvine was sorely tempted to point out that the scientist had betrayed them again by letting the god beast in, just as surely as he had by shoring up Adel's reign, he kept his peace out of a grudging respect for the man's intellect. He knew that one day all fond remembrance of Odine would be overshadowed by his troubled history, and holding this one week against the lifetime of human memory seemed petty.

Odine's two assistants had been found in the desert as well: Nik and Reiss, both of whom Irvine recognized from the team that had come aboard Balamb Garden to excavate the Trabian crater. Nik had been buried without any public ceremony. And Reiss was unconscious in a private room in the hospital's intensive care unit. No one expected him to recover.

The god beast itself had vanished not long after its defeat. Now just a dead patch of earth remained. Laguna had already sent emissaries to Shumi Village to commission a monument to place there.

Presently, Irvine walked into Laguna's office and sat down. Behind his desk, the president was just hanging up the phone.

"How're you doing?" he asked.

"Better," Irvine replied. His shoulder was still swollen and sore, and the stitches in his arm were bothersome, but he was alive.

"And Selphie? I haven't seen her lately."

"She's lying low. Still a little snappy."

"But it's not going to be permanent?"

"The doctors don't think so. It just needs time to work all the way out of her system. Until then, they say she might be a little emotional and testy."

"I see. I want you to know how glad I am that the two of you were here. Aside from Squall, if I could have anyone protecting my city...well..." He smiled. "You kids are all so incredible. That was Quistis on the phone."

"Really?"

"They've come down out of the mountains and are back in the Galbadian base camp. I'm sending a ship to pick them up and bring them back."

"Did she say whether they found anything?"

Laguna shook his head. "I'm afraid the news isn't good. I'll let you know when they'll be landing if you'd like to meet them."

"Sure."

"Take Selphie along, too. And tell her to come see me sometime soon. I've got something I'd like to give her."

"I'll let her know," Irvine promised. After he left, he belatedly realized that he should have offered Laguna some reassurance that Squall was still unharmed, or at least alive. But he knew that any words he had to offer would have been hollow. At this point he scarcely believed that he and Selphie had come out alive.

He walked to her room and knocked gently on the door.

"Yeah?"

"It's me."

"Oh. Irvy. Come on in."

He opened the door slowly just in case she'd fallen into a mood since he'd last seen her. But she was sitting at her desk, serenely typing up a report on her silver laptop computer. A cute pair of black-rimmed reading glasses sat low on her nose, and she looked at him over them when he walked in. "What's up?" she asked, still typing.

"How are you feeling? I wanted to talk to you."

"I'm great. Really great. Diablos on the other hand..." She shrugged. "He's seriously cranky. The doctors have me taking these pills that they say will help him recover faster. But it's not fast enough."

She swiveled in her chair to face him.

"So, what'd you want to talk about? Have you been to Dr. Odine's funeral thing? Kinda weird, isn't it? Oh, and did you hear that someone mailed Laguna a poem to have engraved on our monument? Booyaka. We're stars, Irvy. Speaking of...is it really a monument if we're not...like...dead?"

Irvine let her questions brush by him. They weren't serious; she was just talking, filling the space, driving a wedge of discourse between them to distance him from the topic at hand.

"Sefie." He sat down on the edge of her bed, clasped his hands together, and tried his damndest to look her in the eye. "I came here to tell you that I love you."

"Irvy--"

"Wait. I'm not done. I've loved you since we were kids at the orphanage. When they separated us, I thought I was going to die. You were in Trabia on, like, the other side of the world. I didn't care about anyone in Galbadia. And I didn't want to love anyone but you."

She was frowning, her work forgotten.

"I know you don't have any reason to trust me," he plowed on. "I haven't been a great guy. I know that. But I want to make this work with you. You're the only one I've ever wanted that with. And if you could just...like...give me the smallest signal that it could work, I swear I'd be true to you, Sefie. I would."

Selphie twirled a finger in her hair and looked away, back to her computer screen. Softly, she said, "What if you lose interest in me?"

"What?"

"Like those other girls, I mean. You liked them, too. And I don't want us to be like that. I don't want to ever not be your friend."

"We can't be friends like this," he replied. For a second, he thought she might cry, and it twisted his gut into a painful knot. "And I already know it's not the same. You're not like other girls to me. You never have been. This isn't about sex, Selphie."

A girlish giggle erupted from her, a red flag that she was embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"It isn't. I swear." He moved to take her hand. "I'll prove it to you."

"How?"

"I'll...be yours. Just yours. Okay? No sex. No kissing. No hugging. Nothing until you say so. And I'll be okay with whatever you chose forever." For the first time in his life, Irvine thought that was true. He couldn't stand the distance between them, and if he had to cut all the physical pleasure from his life to enjoy the pure, spiritual euphoria of her companionship, he would. In a heartbeat. He squeezed her hand between his palms. "Deal?"

Her eyes were glossy and she was trembling. When she laughed, a tear broke loose. "Irvy. You can _hug_ me. I don't mind _that_."

As he pulled her close, he felt dazzled by the whitewashing flood of relief that cascaded over him -- he'd been so afraid that he'd destroyed the best thing in his life. She felt so small and frail in his arms that he couldn't believe she was the same girl who'd felled the god beast days before. He brushed his knuckles across the back of her smooth, slim arm, awed by her. What a beautiful woman.

"You're not going to hurt me?" she asked softly.

"Never."

"Okay." She smiled against his neck. "I missed you, Irvy. Let's try."

0 0 0

Compared to the desert, Esthar was a maddening brew of voices, bodies, buildings, and lights. Everything in the city crawled with life, an infestation of chaos that had no order, no semblance of meaning, and no balance. Quistis had gotten used to the open space of the desert. The silence that had initially roared in her ears there had grown sweet with the pastoral rhythms of birds and winds. By contrast, the city was an atonal clamor to her now, made more dissonant by the added aggravation of a recent lunar cry, the defeat of the second god beast, and the unexpected death of Dr. Odine.

The sequestered halls of the presidential palace were calmer than the streets, but Quistis could still feel the palpable unease of the city seeping through the walls. Laguna and Cid were both worried. And everyone under them who felt it was demoralized. Even Zell was a little less upbeat than he'd been when they'd left Centra.

Over lunch, Xu looked up at Quistis and said, "He was past his prime, you know."

"Who?"

"Dr. Odine. I've always heard that scientists make their most important discoveries when they're young, in their twenties. They're thinking outside the box then and aren't committed to the way convention says things are _supposed_ to work. So that's when they make their biggest advances. Odine was...what? He had to be in his sixties at least. Way past his prime."

"Well, you don't have to be at your peak to be above someone at ground level," Quistis replied. "We needed him."

"Why? Seems pretty clear to me that Odin was an aeon, or whatever. And we need to find another one. Odine couldn't have helped us any with that."

"But Gilgamesh could have attacked and killed Hyne all this time, and he hasn't."

"Gilgamesh doesn't give a damn. He's got no morals. It's all a game to him. And it still doesn't change what we have to do. We found Odin the first time around. Who's to say we can't find another one now?"

Xu made it sound as simple as it should have been. It had been that way for Vascaroon. Quistis, on the other hand, couldn't get away with just forty days spent wandering the desert. Her quest was beginning to feel more like pointless flagellation than progress.

Quistis was walking back to the presidential palace from her lunch date, pensive and discontent, when Seifer passed by her with Hyperion propped against his shoulder.

"Where are you going?"

"Out of here."

She changed course to follow him. "What do you mean _out of here_?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. I'm leaving."

Panic seized her. "What? You can't do that!"

He kept walking, trench coat swaying behind him. She jogged to keep up with his long stride and got onto a lift going downtown with him.

"Can I talk you out of this?" she asked. "You know we need you. Even if we can find something to kill Hyne, we're going to have to get past Squall, and we need you to do that."

"Calm the hell down," he said. "I'm not ditching the mission. I'm just getting out of the city for a while. I guess you're coming along now?"

She shrank back from the narrow-eyed look he gave her; he was still angry. "Sure...I guess so, if you don't mind. Where are you heading?"

"Thought I'd go up into the hills and fight a few ruby dragons."

Their lift came to a stop and they got off. "Please tell me you're kidding. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

"So I'm the world's only hope of defeating the great Squall Leonhart, but a big, dumb lizard is too much for me to handle?"

"I don't doubt that you can kill a dragon -- they're just not safe to go up against alone. Garden handbooks recommend parties of three or more. It's their breath attack, can knock you out fast and you won't see it coming. It's not safe to go in without someone there to back you up and revive you if necessary."

"Garden handbook," Seifer scoffed and shook his head. "You got any money? Garden's paying you again, aren't they?"

"Yeah. What do you need?"

"A car would be good. I was planning to walk, but the faster I can get away from here, the better."

Quistis directed him to a lift that would take them to the car rental shop and wondered the entire ride there why she hadn't turned around to begin with and continued on to the palace. She was loathe to think she was beginning to enjoy time in his company and rationalized that worry was what kept her following him down the streets. With Odine dead, they were relying on his lab assistants now and Dr. Shipey was sifting through the late scientist's papers. Seifer's mood had grown darker along with their future, and she was unnerved by seeing him rocked with guilt. She wanted to buoy him up. And she wanted to take some of his burden.

"How do you get out of here?" Seifer asked as they walked to their car.

"I know the way. I'll drive."

Once they crossed into the desert, Seifer insisted on taking over. He handled the car recklessly and without much forethought, driving so fast that he left a thick, billowing column of dust in their wake. Up in the hills, he had no choice but to slow down, and a cramp in Quistis's arm made her unclench her hand from the seat. They came out on top of cliffs overlooking the city on one side and the ocean on the other. Seifer parked on a large, flat slab of sandstone just off the dirt road and got out, slamming the door. From here, Esthar looked a lot like Centra and Quistis couldn't help imagining what the city behind them might look like in a thousand years.

Ruby dragons proved more difficult to find than either had expected. They searched for hours before coming upon one, a juvenile male just emerging from his den. The dragon ran, a tactic used only by the young whose thin bodies and large wings still provided them rudimentary, short flight, and it escaped them by gliding across a large gap in the rock that neither Quistis or Seifer could jump. Seifer swore and jabbed his gunblade into the soft flesh of the sandstone at his feet.

"I really hate this place," he grumbled.

"Why?" Quistis asked. "What is it specifically that bothers you?"

"I don't know. I just don't like it."

She glanced down at the city. "It's not so bad once you get used to it. I lived here for a few months, and it's a lot different from Balamb but day-to-day life is pretty similar to what you'd find in Timber or Deling City. Esthar's just flashier with a lot more glitter."

"The people are weird," he said. "They've got a total moron as their president. The whole place feels like some kid's space station diorama made with bits of glass and old candy."

"I think it's beautiful. Especially at night," she said as he set off to look for another dragon. "Is it bad memories?" she finally asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Cid told me that you grew up here. I thought that maybe you've got some bad memories of being here."

He stopped. "Grew up here? No. I grew up in Balamb."

"Okay. Semantics. He said you were _born _here."

"How the hell would he know that? Esthar?" The expression on his face was the same one he'd had when she'd told him about Odin. "He doesn't know what he's talking about. That old bastard can't know something about me that even I don't."

"You don't remember where you grew up?"

Of course he didn't. He probably remembered his childhood in Esthar was well as she remembered hers in Dollet. Did he remember the orphanage, she wondered? Or had guardian forces eaten away his past so thoroughly that he was free-floating like a balloon in time? She didn't want to push the subject with him. He was already on edge without the added weight of old memories. Still, she filed a mental note to bring it up again later, after the business with Hyne was concluded.

"The best time to hunt dragons is in the morning," she said. "They come out to lie on the rocks and get warm. But in the middle of the day it's too hot. So we're probably not going to find any right now. And we should head back anyway, looks like a storm is coming in."

"You can go back to the car. I'm going to keep looking."

Quistis wondered as she followed him whether he was punishing her or himself. The search continued unabated -- into caves, across fissures in the rock, and under crumbling overhangs -- until the dark clouds on the horizon built to an ominous pitch and began flashing with silent lightning. The dusty air grew sharp and the wind came up as the storm rolled in, generating huge white-tipped waves that crashed against the cliffs. Seifer and Quistis had to run to try and beat it back to the car, but halfway there thunder peeled over them and the clouds broke, dumping fat drops of pure, blue sky that stung their backs and their arms. Seifer stopped and put his head back, his eyes closed, Hyperion glistening, and his breathing rapid from the run. Looking at him, Quistis got the impression that he'd called the storm to him -- that if he couldn't save the world then he'd be the one to bring it down.

"Come on," she urged him.

By the time they reached the car, they were both sopping wet. Quistis pulled off her jacket and her shoes and threw them in the backseat. Thunder rattled the windows.

"God. We'd better get to low ground before we get hit by lightning," she said.

"Told you: this place is a hole."

Seifer turned the car around and began the treacherous decent. The trail they'd used to come up the hills had turned into a muddy slip and slide that Seifer could barely navigate without fishtailing around corners. Quistis pressed her feet to the floorboards and swore when they skidded too close to the edge.

"Look out!" she yelled as they came to a water filled rut.

"Relax. I see it." He swerved off the road and through a rough patch of sage brush, then over a mound and back onto the road again. "We've got smooth sailing from here on out," he announced as they skidded down the last hill. "Nothing but desert."

When they finally pulled into the rental shop, the clerk blanched and dropped the pencil he was holding. Quistis could see why once she got out: they'd left a distinct trail of muddy tire tracks all the way through town and that same mud was now pooling off the fenders of their encrusted car onto the shop's garage floor. She was about to apologize and offer to pay extra to cover the clean up costs when Seifer tossed the keys onto the counter and said, "Let's go."

"Aren't you going to--?"

"No."

She had to scramble to catch up with him, hopping from one clean patch of floor to the other with her shoes dangling by their laces from her left hand. He was waiting for her outside under the building's eaves.

"You should have offered to pay to clean that up," she said.

He shrugged and watched her put her shoes back on. "It's their job. They're already getting paid once to do it. I'm not going to pay them again. Hurry up. I'm freezing."

Quistis was cold, too. The inside of her shoes were soggy and slippery, which made their sprint under the rippling sky to the nearest lift troublesome. Seifer held her hand and pulled her along though she yelled at him to slow down, gulping rainwater and fresh air and feeling exhilarated against all reason. Seifer's thumb was pressing hard against her pulse in her wrist; his touch warmed her chilled skin and fired an extra dose of adrenaline into her blood. Out of the corner of her eye, she surveyed him: shirt plastered to his chest, his pants tight around his legs, his hair mussed. He smelled like earth, wind, and aftershave.

They had to wait for the lift, huddled together under a storefront awning across the street.

"Do you feel better now?" she asked him.

"Why would I?"

"You got out of Esthar for a while."

_She_ felt better; she'd assumed he would as well. Their trip had reminded her of Centra. And though she usually lived her life ten minutes in the future, with Seifer she was very aware that she might not long enough to warrant such long-term planning. He was immediate and vibrant like a struck match. And he was powerful like Squall had been. In the shadow of the awning, she moved close to him.

"It's not like it did any good," he said. "I didn't get to kill a damn thing. And now I'm back here with nothing do but wait for a bunch of old men to send us back out to do the dirty work again. It's all the same, you know. I've worked all sides of it, and there's no difference between working for people like Headmaster Cid and people like Ultimecia. Way I see it, you're pretty much fucked either way."

She'd wanted him to be like this at first, aware of his crimes, his emotional inner core besieged by guilt. Now she looked closely at him, hoping it hadn't gripped him so hard so as to undermine everything that made him strong.

"Like what you see?" he asked and grinned.

She blinked. _Yes._ He wasn't broken. Just shaken.

Thunder rippled across her skin so that it was extra sensitive when he reached out and brushed his fingers across her cheek, then down the side of her neck and across her collar bone. He cupped the side of her face and brushed his thumb across her eyebrow. His green eyes swept over her face, lingered on her lips, and then came up to meet hers.

The intensity of his gaze was broken by the arrival of the lift across the street announced by a computerized voice. They jogged back across the street and got on. Quistis sat down too close to Seifer and got jabbed in the thigh by Hyperion's hilt. He laughed, shifted Hyperion to his other side, and looped an arm around her as their lift took off down the tubes leading to the government district and the presidential palace.

"You want to kiss me, don't you?" he said.

"No."

"It's okay. You can admit it. Just you and me here."

He leaned close and gripped her hard so that their noses touched. Quistis fisted her hand on the lapel of his wet coat, uncertain whether she wanted to push him away or pull him closer. He was smiling. And he was breathing desire into her, making her wonder how she'd never noticed him before when she couldn't look away from him now. She _did_ want to kiss him. But he'd made it a point of pride, so bit him instead, taking his bottom lip between her teeth and sinking them in far enough to make him wince.

"Ah!" His fingers curled into her side and his tongue swept over his injury, the tip grazing her own mouth and driving her past good sense.

Then she was kissing him. Kissing him like he was oxygen. And she didn't even notice their lift come to a stop in front of the presidential palace. He hissed when she bit him again, on the neck this time, and pulled her off by her hair. Rain was blowing in on them now. It seemed to sizzle off Quistis's skin.

They ran across the piazza and rode another lift inside the building. Seifer let her peel his coat off while he kissed her, and they stumbled off the other side onto the palace's thick, red carpets.

Despite the fact that Seifer was leading them, they ended up at her room. He opened up the door and pulled her inside. She'd left the french doors leading to her balcony open that afternoon when she'd left. The gauzy curtains were billowing and in the unnatural darkness from the evening clouds they looked like puffs of mist in the lightning flashes. On her desk, a large volume was lying open, the pages turning in the breeze. She heard the door swing shut behind her and heard Seifer turn the lock. They were alone.

"Seifer..."

He tossed his heavy trench coat into a corner.

"What? You want me to leave now?"

"Maybe." She watched the pages of her book turn. It was one of Dr. Odine's and looked disconcertingly like his ghost was sitting there, leafing through old memories and accomplishments.

"Too fucking bad. Live for once. I know you want me to stay."

"What if I don't?"

"You do."

She stood still for a moment, debating the right and the wrong of what she was considering. She'd always categorized the world into black and white categories of right and wrong, good and bad, friend and enemy. But her sense of the world had failed her. Rinoa was now everything good in the world and everything bad all at once. Squall was the enemy. Seifer was a friend. Perhaps it made sense in this new reality to love him. He moved her hair aside to kiss down the back of her neck and across her shoulder. It felt right.

She grabbed onto that feeling, turned and grabbed onto Seifer as well, and he groaned as her fingernails bit into his back.

"Ah, yeah. There you go."

He buried his hands in her hair and bent her head back, then kissed her until she couldn't breathe. She was dizzy and hungry for his attention, ravenous like a dog that had been starved. The rasp of their breathing and the pounding of blood in her ears blended with the storm raging around them. Her back hit the wall. Suddenly she was pressed between the room's pastel wallpaper and Seifer who was kissing down her neck, sucking and biting, and pressing his hands into the flesh of her bottom.

When he bit too hard, she gasped.

"Sorry," he muttered and kissed the spot.

Her skin was clammy under her shirt but quickly warmed as he worked it up over her head then tossed it onto the soggy heap developing in the corner.

"You're cold," he said.

"So are you."

"Fucking freezing..."

Quistis had to push him away, tearing his mouth from hers to pull his shirt off the same way he had hers. He was gorgeous underneath: broad shoulders, strong arms, flat stomach that sucked in when she touched it. He had a scar across one shoulder, the result of a training injury when he'd been fourteen. They'd been in the same class that year and he'd taken on a t-rexaur in the training center without an instructor to back him up. She ran her fingers over the puckered skin, then over the scar running down the bridge of his nose wondering how he could be so reckless with something so beautiful.

He pressed her hard against the wall and kissed across the swell of her left breast. Then, rather than bother with the clasp of her bra, simply pulled the straps down her arms and urged the lace down until he had the access he wanted. He shuddered, said something nonsensical, and pulled her shoulders back so that she arched into him. Her stomach tightened violently into a knot and forced a ragged gasp from her throat as his tongue worked hot across her breast.

She said his name. Breathy. A voice she didn't quite recognize. And he responded by kissing her and pressing his bare chest to hers. There was heat between them and electricity, trembling lust that was finally overflowing. At her hips she could feel him straining for her. Seifer was such a powerful man, the kind who couldn't be made to do anything, that having such intimate control over him flooded her with pleasure.

"Your shoes," he said suddenly, inexplicably taken with the sudden need to untie her laces. She lost her balance and caught herself on the dresser, knocking something off onto the floor, when he dropped down and lifted her foot off the carpet.

Both her shoes, then both of her socks came off to be added to the pile. Her feet were cold as ice and stung against the heat of his palms. She hadn't expected him to be an attentive lover, but he surprised her with the way he warmed her toes and circled her ankles with his hands.

"I don't want to stand anymore," Quistis told him. Her knees were failing her. She was ready to sink down back into his arms, and the bed across the room was looking inviting and warm.

He scooped her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her there, laid her on her back on top of the downy comforter like an infant. And he pulled her pants and underwear down over her hips, down her thighs to her knees and then off. His expression changed as he looked at her to something more urgent, something even darker with desire than before. Quistis was not inexperienced, but no one had ever looked at her this way before.

Lightning flashed across his skin, kissing it like she wanted to.

He murmured her name, got down on his knees on the carpet, and ran his hands up her thighs. She sat up and kissed him, a little uncomfortable with his scrutiny, but he broke away to trail kisses between her breasts and down her stomach. Reluctantly, she let him push her down onto her back, and then he was between her knees, his hands running down her sides to clutch her hips.

"God," he said and sighed. His thumbs pressed into the hollow points inside her hip bones and he kissed just below her belly button.

Then he dropped his head between her legs. It made her gasp, made her fist her hands in his hair. She tried pushing him away and pulling him closer, not sure exactly what she wanted and completely taken by surprise. This wasn't what she had expected. This was generous and self-sacrificing and reverent -- nothing like Seifer. But he continued, apparently just as much for his own pleasure as hers, until she was quivering and sweating, saying anything that crossed her mind and repeating his name when everything else ceased to matter.

A kiss pressed to the inside of her thigh brought her back down. He took off his shoes, his wet pants, and his boxers before lifting her off the bed and pulling the sheets back. Then they were beneath them together, cocooned in the warmth of the comforter and she was pressed flush against the heat of his skin. He swept his hand through her hair, kissed her again, and moved between her legs so that his weight pinned her against the soft mattress.

The storm outside reached a fever pitch. Quistis bent her head back so that she could see the sky out the window and watched the black clouds above while Seifer buried his face against the curve of her neck, groaned, and drove home.

Then he was moving, or she was -- she wasn't sure which. Rocking slowly. Rocking fast. The thunder punctuated their gasps. He kissed her, mumbled in her ear things she understood and things she didn't. She pressed her heels into the bed and wrapped her arms tight around him, holding onto him as if he were one anchor to life.

It didn't last long.

Quistis lost control first. She felt it coming in a massive wave and went tense.

Seifer swore, tipped over the edge with her, and went lax on top of her while she was still shuddering and gasping.

They laid like that for a while, the covers kicked off, letting the breeze blow across their hot skin, before Seifer rolled away and pulled the covers back up over them. Quistis felt languid and satisfied, completely unable to move. So they rested in stillness together.

She felt compelled to say something. "That was--"

"I know," he interrupted.

She hadn't been sure what she was going to say. That was fantastic? A mistake? A mistake they should make again? But Seifer's reply allowed her to sink into the silence and lie comfortably at his side. He had his eyes closed and his hands were above his head. Curious, she rolled onto her side, reached across the small space that separated them, and rested one hand on his hip. He didn't move or say anything, so she settled in.

Sleep snuck up on her. She had vague, content dreams and woke up without realizing that she'd fallen asleep when Seifer moved out from under her hand. It was late: the storm had passed and the stars were bright in the sky beyond her open french doors. He pushed the blankets away and walked naked across the room to retrieve his clothes. She watched him dress and heard him grumble about his still damp jeans. And then he left.

She rolled onto her stomach into the spot he'd vacated and fell back asleep.

The next morning she woke up early because her stomach was growling. Laguna was already up and eating breakfast. Seifer was there, too, a stack of pancakes topped with fruit in front of him and a glass of orange juice in one hand.

"Sleep well?" Laguna asked with a smile as she sat down.

"Yeah. I did."

"I was just talking to Seifer, here," Laguna said. "I was a sorceress's knight once, too. Did you know?"

Quistis shook her head and glanced across the table at Seifer who scowled and gestured with his fork toward his breakfast as if the food were the only reason he was putting up with Laguna's tales of days gone by. She smiled at him and listened patiently to Laguna's recollections of being a "major film star" until Zell and Dr. Shipey joined them. All was comfortable. All was well. She sat back in her seat, breathed a sigh of relief, and let a memory of the night before flit across her mind.

The world made more sense today, she decided. Things were starting to feel right again.


	24. Temple in the Snow

A/N: Variations on Selphie's cactuar hat actually exist should any of you wish to impress your friends with one of your own.

Chapter 23: Temple in the Snow

Seifer had never liked uniforms; their very purpose was contrary to his ideals. So, he wasn't sure what compelled him to agree when Quistis returned from a trip to Balamb Garden with a SeeD uniform in his size. He wore it the next day to a big-wig meeting between Cid, Laguna, Dr. Shipey, and President Krier who was conferenced in on a large screen that spanned the far wall of the room. Through much of the event, Krier looked exactly how Seifer felt: impatient, uncomfortable, and on the verge of violence.

"I have men in Centra," Krier said. "I can send them to locate the sorceress."

"That would be a mistake," Cid replied.

"Why?"

"Because we don't want Rinoa to call down any more god beasts, nor do we want to speed up her transition into Hyne."

"There's no evidence the process can be hastened. This was a good lead a month ago, but now we're just wasting time searching for Vascaroon's weapon. We need to confront and kill Miss Heartilly before she becomes too powerful to be stopped."

"You can't just _kill_ her. She hasn't done anything," Laguna argued.

"I'm sure anyone who lost a loved one to those god beasts would disagree with you," Krier shot back.

The meeting progressed that way until the men finally came to a tacit agreement: Krier would go to Centra and transform the shanty-town of tents that formed the Galbadian base camp there into a staging point for what Cid called the "final phase of the operation," and Krier agreed not to pursue Rinoa unless she left Centra or another lunar cry seemed imminent. Meanwhile, Quistis and her team would take Dr. Shipey into Trabia on the Ragnarok to follow up on their last lead. The Galbadian troops stationed there were reporting a break in the snow, and Laguna's scientists confirmed that another storm wasn't due to move in for another week.

Outside the conference room, Seifer stretched, cracked his back, and unzipped the front of his SeeD jacket.

Quistis came out with Cid, who she thanked and took something from before walking up to Seifer.

"You look nice," she said. "I had a feeling that would look good on you."

"What'd you get from the headmaster?" he asked, ignoring her compliment.

"It's money for supplies -- winter clothes, sleeping bags, things like that. We leave in the morning so we'll have to shop tonight."

"You don't get to pick out a coat for me," he said when she smiled at him.

"I wasn't going to. But I would like you and Raijin to go along with Irvine and Zell."

"Why?"

"Male bonding. You might as well all go together, and, since we're going to be working together, I need Irvine to get to where he can trust you."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine."

Seifer was in a bad mood when he returned late that night. He'd managed to find a good pair of boots and a coat at the first shop he'd walked into, but Zell and Irvine had taken so long to find just the right ensembles that he'd eventually had to leave the mall without them or drive Hyperion straight through Chicken Wuss's chest. He was glad the next morning that he'd restrained himself when Zell showed up at the air station wearing a bulky coat made out of sheepskin and blue snow lion fur, his regular short pants, and a pair of tall black boots that Seifer was almost certain he'd found in the women's section. As usual, he seemed blissfully unaware of how stupid he looked as they boarded the Ragnarok. Seifer didn't know where to begin -- insults flew so fast and so furious from his mouth that they emerged as a tangled knot of curses and poultry references.

"My boots _have _to be tall to cover my ankles," Zell explained, as if buying a full-fledged pair of pants had never entered his mind.

Presently, Seifer had worn himself out on verbal banter and was relaxing at the back of the Ragnarok's bridge, watching the messenger girl handle the controls as they soared through the sky.

Quistis stood next to him with one hand on the back of his chair. She was wearing dark gray pants with pink stripes down either leg and a pale, pink sweater that didn't completely hide the white undershirt she was wearing underneath. He hadn't thought that women could look good in thermal clothing, but she did.

When she turned around and rode the elevator down, he was quick to follow.

The Ragnarok was big -- easily twice the size of the ship they'd had in Galbadia -- so it took him a while to find her. By the time he discovered her in a second level locker room, reorganizing the contents of her backpack, he was hungry for her.

She didn't offer up much resistance. One kiss, and she was melting, just as ready to collapse in a tangled heap on the floor as he was. Things moved quickly. He sighed as he held her warm body to his, and he pressed a hand over her mouth to silence her breathy groans. He loved seeing her like this, so out of control and unguarded, both literally and figuratively naked, because she was so rarely this vulnerable. He liked that he was the one to bring her to this tender point -- it made him feel powerful, and it made the sex more intense for him when he thought that he had stripped her to her primal core.

When they were finished, she kissed his sweaty shoulder and relaxed against his chest. He was still holding her tight.

"That was exactly how I remembered it," she said.

"I know. Best you've ever had. I get that a lot."

She shook her head and laughed. "Do you suppose anyone is wondering where we're at?"

"No." He doubted anyone cared enough to wonder.

She looked up at him and fingered the stray hairs hanging over his forehead. "What do you think we're going to find in Trabia?" she asked.

"Nothing."

Surprise flashed across her face.

"I agree with Krier," he elaborated.

"You mean, you think we should kill Rinoa?"

He shrugged and she sighed.

"I don't see how you can say that."

"It's going to happen whether we do it with some special guardian force or not. According to the professor, she's already gone anyway, so there isn't really anything to feel bad about."

"I guess so." She snuggled closer to him. "We were willing to do it with Edea. I suppose it shouldn't be any different with Rinoa."

Seifer didn't quite see how the situations were related, but he suspected that Quistis was more bothered by Squall's fate than Rinoa's, and at the moment he didn't want Squall Leonhart to be anywhere in her thoughts. To distract her, he kissed her. Then, once he had her attention, he leisurely explored the smooth plane of her back and the gentle swell of her breasts, enjoying his temporary possession of her body and the way she sighed, until a bubble of turbulence told them that the Ragnarok was heading in for a landing. They dressed and rode the elevator back up to the bridge.

"Is everything okay?" Quistis asked as they hit more turbulence. The windows were white with snow.

"Just a storm," Selphie replied. "I've still got solid radar to the ground, so we're okay."

Once they flew out of the storm, Seifer could see Trabia below, endless hills of pine and snow capped mountains to the horizon.

"Booyaka!" Selphie said. "Home."

They landed just shy of the Galbadian camp in a tiny clearing that Selphie was directed to over the radio by one of the soldiers. The meadow was just barely big enough to accommodate the Ragnarok and its wings clipped branches on the way down.

"Dude!" Zell came up in the elevator. "Are we there already?"

"Almost. We're going to have to hike a bit," Quistis replied.

"Cool!" Zell got down on the floor to tighten the laces of his ridiculous hooker boots. "Dr. Shipey says that no one ever comes here. It's way up in the mountains and the pass leading up to it is closed most of the year with snow. So everything's still like it was back in Vascaroon's time."

Selphie sighed. "I bet Sir Vascaroon was really amazing."

Selphie and Zell were essentially the same person in two separate bodies, Seifer decided. His suspicions were solidified when she pulled on a pair of yellow snow pants, a coat that had a daisy embroidered on the back, and a green hat with a line of thorns and a pair of surprised looking cactuar eyes on top.

Two Galbadian soldiers were waiting for them outside. There were no chocobos this time, just a hazy trail through a foot of snow snaking between the trees. Small, grainy flakes were skipping through the branches, stinging Seifer's cheeks and making Hyperion's blade rough and sticky. He zipped up his coat higher and his cloudy breath began to collect on his eyelashes.

The snow covering the ground was thick and powder soft. Although they followed the trail left by the Galbadians, it was exhausting to wade through. By the time they reached a steep, rocky passageway, muscles in Seifer's legs that he hadn't felt since SeeD training were beginning to ache and burn.

"Not much further now," one of the Galbadians said.

"How's the temple look?" Shipey asked.

"Pretty good. We've been through all the accessible rooms and are working on clearing some debris from the stairs going into the lower levels. The snow moved in pretty fast -- we haven't had much else to do."

"I read a little about this place while we were in Esthar," Zell admitted. "I read that construction took ten years, everything done during the summer. And since you can only get through here a few months out of the year, they used to have to stock up on a whole year's supplies in just a few months."

Seifer had to step to the side on the slippery trail as Selphie bounded past him like a mountain goat. "It sounds like a dump," he said.

"Well, I bet it's beautiful," Selphie replied. She glanced over her shoulder at him, looking angry despite her sunny outfit. He thought that she was probably bitter with him over the bombing of Trabia Garden two years ago, though he didn't see why. It wasn't like he'd been selective when he'd sent out the orders: Balamb Garden had been a target as well. He didn't even know her well enough for it to have been personal. War was like that; he thought that as a SeeD she should know better.

The ruin they eventually reached wasn't expansive or lush like the one in Centra had been. One stone building sat in a niche halfway up the pass. It looked more like a fort than a temple: the walls were made of thick, dark stone that looked like it could survive a cannon blast, and several tiny windows gave the building a wide view of the valley below. It was strategic and simple without flourish or aesthetic.

Shipey pulled off his hat and grinned. "Now _this_ is a ruin. Look at the level of preservation. It's breathtaking."

The Galbadians were camped inside. They had a fire burning in an old hearth and were crowded around it, seven of them, eating off tin plates. Four green canvas tents were set up in the middle of the room and two chocobos were squatting in the corner, dozing.

Quistis stopped just inside the door, crossed her arms, and said, "Didn't think I'd be seeing you two again."

Two of the soldiers, a man and a woman, smiled. "We were in the area," the man said. "President Krier called and put us in charge of a team. It was a pretty big promotion, so we took it."

"How did you get out of Trabia Garden?"

"We escaped."

"And how's your foot?"

The man shrugged. "Mostly usable."

"You know these morons?" Seifer asked.

Quistis nodded. "Duran and Crecentia. It's a long story. Don't worry about it."

Duran gestured over his shoulder. "You guys can set up camp in one of the other rooms if you want."

Seifer couldn't shake the feeling as they set up camp that they were in a fort, not a temple. The ceilings were high, and there were gaps in the wall where he thought an old floor could have been, putting the windows in just the right place at just the right size for outward facing munitions. Downy snow drifted in through them now, sprinkling the floor so that it looked sugary.

Their Estharan tents were made of light, pastel material that felt waxy and tough. They were packed in triangular, plastic cases and unfolded into an intact tent with the pull of a string, jack-in-the-box-like. Seifer couldn't comprehend how they were going to put them away again, but figured he'd just leave his behind in Trabia rather than bother with it. He set up his tent close to the fire where the floor was dry and even.

Raijin immediately crawled inside and began unrolling his sleeping bag.

Seifer followed. "Hey, Raijin."

"Yeah?"

"Do me a favor, okay?"

"Sure. Whatever you need, ya know?"

"Room with Fujin this time around."

Raijin froze. "What?"

"Trade places with Quistis."

"I dunno. I don't think Fu would be happy about that, ya know?"

Seifer rolled his eyes. "She'll get over it. Just tell her that I said so."

Reluctantly, Raijin left with all his belongings. Seifer finished settling in and was cleaning frost off Hyperion with his coat sleeve when the flap opened.

"Professor? What the hell are you doing here?"

Shipey's eyes went wide. "Well, your friend wanted to share a tent with Fujin, and he took my spot, so I got sent here, and--"

"_Your _spot?"

Shipey sighed. "Zell decided to share with that cowboy fellow, and Quistis is staying with the other girl, so I got moved in with Fujin. And now Raijin wants to share with her, so he sent me here."

_Fucking hell._ Seifer put down Hyperion, told Shipey not to go near it, and left in search of Quistis. He found her arranging twigs in the fireplace and authoritatively sending everyone in shouting distance outside to fetch firewood.

"Make sure it's dry," she called after Zell as he ran out the door.

Seifer came up behind her. "Want to tell me why the hell you're rooming with the messenger girl?" he asked.

"Why wouldn't I?" she said, still breaking and rearranging sticks.

"Look at me. I'm talking to you."

She looked over her shoulder.

"I got Raijin to switch and stay with Fujin, and now all the sudden you've switched roommates?"

She couldn't stifle a laugh. "You mean, you're with Dr. Shipey now?"

"There isn't anything funny about that," he said. "What's the messenger girl's problem, anyway? Why isn't she staying with what's-his-face? I thought they were dating."

"Irvine," she said. "And they are dating, but they're abstaining."

"Well, what's the point of that?"

"He's proving himself to her."

Seifer had figured the reason would be stupid, but this was exceptional. "So, he's dating her but can't touch her?"

"Yeah."

"Well, why can't she stay with Dr. Shipey?"

"Because she's my friend. I can't abandon her like that."

This was getting aggravating. "Come on. You owe me for all that male bonding shit I put up with yesterday. Convince her to move back in with the cowboy. He'll appreciate it."

"And then...?"

"Then I'll move in with you, Zell moves in with Dr. Shipey, and everyone's happy. Plus, it's cold here. It's snowing _inside_. We'll need body heat or--fuck, Quistis. Just do it."

She kissed him quickly, a peck on the lips. "I'll sit with you by the fire all night if you get too cold," she promised, then sent him to help Zell search for firewood. He felt uncomfortably like he'd been outwitted as he walked out of the temple, though he wasn't sure by whom. For now he'd find a way to make the Chicken Wuss pay. If the little bastard hadn't switched roommates to begin with, Seifer thought, then he wouldn't need a fire to keep him warm all night.

0 0 0

The temple reminded Quistis of fairy tales she'd read when she was little about princesses locked away in fortified castle keeps. The stories had seemed romantic back then, set in a parallel world where handsome heroes spent their days fighting for love and where fair maidens were always virtuous and kind, in no way damaged by the terrible things fate did to them. Those stories seemed pale now that she found herself in a real remote fortress. Faced with the cold isolation and monotony, she quickly gave up any remnant desire she'd had to live the life of a damsel in distress.

She was tired as she got dressed in her tent. For an hour after everyone else had gone to bed, she'd stayed up sitting by the fire, foolishly hoping that Seifer might take her up on her promise. He didn't, and she'd had a hard time sleeping once she gave up.

Selphie was doing yoga on top of her sleeping bag.

"So, how long are you going to give Irvine the cold shoulder?" Quistis asked.

"I'm not," Selphie replied from a painful looking pose.

"You used to let him kiss you when you _weren't_ dating."

"So? That was different. He's gotta be serious about this."

"Yeah. I guess I can understand that. But it still seems like a step backwards."

Selphie flipped over on her back and did something that looked impossible with her leg. "Me and Irvy have been friends forever," she said, her voice muffled. "I'd rather keep him like that then get into something with him and have it go bad. Plus, I've heard the way people talk about him. And I don't want them saying those kind of things about me."

"I doubt anyone would. It's common knowledge that he's crazy about you."

Quistis pulled her hair back and tried to rationalize that her meddling was for Selphie's own good.

"If you're the one who's not serious about the relationship," she continued, "then you should tell him."

"I am serious."

"Then throw him a bone. He's showing you that he means it. You need to, too."

When Quistis emerged from her tent, Raijin was crouched in front of the fire making breakfast. When Dr. Shipey and Seifer got up, the latter with a sour expression and his hair in wild disarray, they huddled around the fire as well.

"What's the plan for today?" Quistis asked the professor.

"Duran told me last night that they found a library. I was thinking I'd start there."

Seifer grumbled into his breakfast. "Came all the way across the tundra for a stupid _library_."

It sounded like a promising lead to Quistis, so when the professor finished his breakfast, she offered to go with him. Seifer, despite his earlier skepticism, decided to go along as well and ran his fingers compulsively through his hair as they walked, trying to slick it back into place.

The temple was full of narrow, dark hallways that connected huge, vaulted rooms. In between were acetic little cells where the priests had lived. Quistis peeked into one as they passed. Had they been furnished, she supposed they wouldn't have been much different than the dorms at Garden. Shipey got turned around once, had to backtrack when he lead them to a dead end, and then found a winding staircase. Quistis descended the shallow steps two at a time and came out into a dark, shallow room occupied only by one broken statue whose disembodied hands cast shadows on the wall in the shifting beam of Dr. Shipey's flashlight.

"That must be it," he said as his flashlight landed on a wooden door that was sitting slightly ajar.

Quistis expected an ancient library lined with towering, oak shelves packed with large volumes bound in leather or lamb skin with titles hand painted in gold filigree. What she found when Dr. Shipey eased the door open on its creaky hinges was nothing of the sort. The room was a disorganized hodgepodge of furniture; statues lying on their sides; thick stacks of parchment paper; heaps of stone slabs; and rough, blackened rolls of what she supposed had once been scrolls written on stripped tree bark. The air was cool and dry, laced with the dusty scent of years.

"Looks like they just dumped stuff here," Seifer said.

The professor swept his light over the room, illuminating sample after sample of Ancient Centran script. It was a potential treasure trove of information, and it humbled Quistis.

"This is the rest of my _career_," Dr. Shipey whispered.

He immediately became absorbed in the stack of stone tablets and began reading out loud from the one on top in halting Ancient Centran. Quistis stared at him and listened to the dead language for the first time. It was a hard language, full of long, dark vowels and velar consonants. Though sometimes when the professor would hit a stride, his pronunciation would soften and smooth so that the words linked together into a sound like guttural humming. Dr. Shipey noticed how her attention was trained on him and stopped suddenly.

"I probably have a terrible accent," he explained, as if she could tell the difference.

"What's it say?" Quistis asked.

"Oh. It's an epitaph. Like, for a grave or monument. It's got quite lovely poetry in the original. Here's the date at the bottom -- over two thousand years ago."

Seifer was rummaging at the back of the library. Quistis saw him bend down, and then heard a grating sound as he turned something solid over. "Hey. What's this?" he asked.

Dr. Shipey angled his flashlight revealing a statue of a young man made of dark, volcanic stone. He had bushy hair, a large sword in one hand, and a serpentine dragon coiling around one arm.

"I don't know." Shipey walked over to get a better look, bent to inspect the base, and smiled. "It's Vascaroon."

A moment of quiet reverence passed as they took in the ancient hero's face. Something about him tickled the back of Quistis' mind, like she'd seen him somewhere before.

"How do you know it's him?" Seifer asked.

"It says so," Dr. Shipey replied. "He looks younger than I expected. This is a good sign -- if they've got this, there's probably a lot more here."

Shipey went back to poring over the tablets, muttering about how they looked just like the ones he'd found in Esthar. Seifer and Quistis helped him lay the pile out flat across the floor and then had to pick their way back to the door without stepping on any.

"Is there anything we can help you with?" Quistis asked.

"No. You can go. Maybe bring me lunch when Raijin makes it." He waved them away, and Seifer didn't hesitate to climb back up the stairs again. Quistis followed close behind, hardly able to see him in the dark passage without the aid of Shipey's flashlight. At the top of the steps, he stopped and grabbed her hand. His grip was strong and warm, so she tightened her fingers around his.

0 0 0

Sleep came fitful and light to Quistis in Trabia. So when someone walked by her tent late at night, she woke. Through the material she watched a shadow walk up to the fire, stoke it, and then sit down. Curious, she pushed out of her sleeping bag, pulled on her boots and her coat over top of her pajamas, and slipped out to see who else was up. She had an idea who it could be, and she'd been wanting some time alone with him for days.

Huge, fluffy snowflakes were blowing in through the windows. Seifer was adding another log to the fire and was splitting an already burning one in half, throwing sparks up over his shoulders. She stopped for a moment while he was still unaware of her presence and watched him.

"What's up?" she finally asked.

He started. "Holy hell, Quistis. What are you doing up?"

She sat down next to him. "I've been keeping the fire going the past few nights. I was just getting up to see who's helping me out. How about you? Couldn't sleep?"

He shrugged. "The professor comes to bed late and then talks in his sleep."

"Really? What's he say?"

"I don't know. It's always in another language. Creepy as hell waking up to that shit, keeps giving me weird dreams."

Sensing an unguarded moment, Quistis asked, "What kind of dreams?"

"They're stupid." He paused, like he might not go on, but a moment later he did. "I'm in a room that's full of kids' toys and crap like that. And I can hear people yelling. I think its other kids. Like, I know there should be other kids there. But it's just me."

Quistis prodded the fire with her boot, thinking of the bon fires they used to have on the beach at the orphanage. "Maybe it's memories coming back to you."

"Coming back?"

"Guardian forces live in the part of our brain that stores memories," she explained. "The longer we're junctioned with them, the more memories they eat. You were at Garden long enough for them to do some damage. Do you remember anything about your childhood?"

He looked puzzled, as if he'd never actually thought about it before. "I was at Garden."

"I mean before Garden. I mentioned to you that Cid said you were born in Esthar. Maybe that's drudging up some old memories. It happened to me a few years ago. Irvine said something and they all started rushing back."

He frowned so deeply that his scar puckered and creased. Quistis understood; it had been a strange feeling for her to discover that part of her life was missing. Her situation hadn't been helped any when the past she'd uncovered had been one that she'd been content to forget. She hadn't been abused, but she hadn't been loved either. The Trepes had been more fond of the idea of a child than the reality, and she'd left them not long after she'd arrived shackled with an unrelenting need to prove herself. Seifer's past was probably unpleasant as well -- no one ended up in an orphanage through good fortune. She already knew that his parents had been Adel sympathizers and had been executed. How many memories of his parents' fate might be locked away in his mind, she wondered?

"I'm getting kind of tired of the past," Seifer admitted.

"You don't remember any of it?"

"If I've really forgotten, then it must not be worth remembering."

"There might be a few things," Quistis suggested.

Seifer turned to look at her, his eyes narrow and suspicious. The firelight brought back the dangerous gleam to his face that she recognized from the Second Sorceress' War. "You seem to know a lot more about it than I do," he said, a hard edge to his voice, "so why don't you just _tell_ me instead of dropping hints?"

Quistis pulled her coat tighter around her body and sunk down into it, not sure how to tell him that they'd grown up together. Their new intimacy did not extend to deep discussions or even to casual affection, so she felt more awkward sitting next to him now than she had locked naked with him in the Ragnarok's hangar days before.

"It will all come back to you on its own," she finally said. "Once the memories start coming back, they'll come fast. They did with me."

He turned back to the fire and sighed. They sat together in silence, warmed by the crackling fire, and eventually Quistis slumped down onto her side next to him, cushioned her head on her arms, and fell asleep. She wasn't sure if Seifer slept there with her, but he woke her when Raijin got up the next morning. Selphie was still asleep when Quistis crept back into their tent to dress.

A distracted Dr. Shipey left for the library carrying his breakfast with him. Quistis followed not far behind and found him sitting on the floor, his meal half eaten beside him. He was wetting his fingers into his water bottle to clean dust out of the worn letters on one of the tablets.

"That's supposed to be for you to drink," she scolded.

"I know." He didn't look up.

"Find anything interesting?" she asked.

"Yes. Sort of. These are the same texts that we found in Esthar, the ones written by Jorgan E'Lizul. I'm just going through them, to see if any of the fragments that were missing in our originals are intact here. I've already found some extra text, but none of it relevant -- mostly detailing Vascaroon's brief illness and death."

"You should stop and eat," Quistis said.

"I'm fine," he insisted.

"Can I do anything to help?"

"Not really."

"There has to be something."

He sighed, clearly frustrated with her. For the past few days, she'd been checking on him regularly, and though he insisted that he wasn't working beyond his means, she'd watched him grow more haggard and more obsessed. She was afraid that he might burn out soon and held her ground as he irritably tried to convince her to leave. Eventually, he waved his hand, flinging droplets off the tips of his fingers. "I suppose you could look through the parchments. You know the word Hyne, right? Just look for that."

Quistis didn't know the Centran symbols for Hyne, so she had him copy them onto a piece of paper and retreated to the other side of the room to begin digging through the stack of parchment there. She watched him as she worked and prompted him regularly to finish his breakfast.

The parchments he'd told her to look at were all handwritten, some of them poorly so that the text angled across the page. A few were very neatly printed and decorated with painted scenes in the margins: two farmers driving away a gayla with their pitchforks, a red dragon extinguishing the sun with its breath, and men sitting around a cask of liquor, surrounded by the glow of domesticity. The paper itself, old and soft from centuries of handling, withered between her fingers.

She was slow and inefficient at her work, more consumed by worry for the professor's health and thoughts about Seifer and her relationship with him than she was by the letters spilling across the pages in her hands. The process seemed engaging to Shipey, but it bored Quistis. And she didn't find a single reference to Hyne.

Hunger was beginning to twist her stomach when a gentle, perplexed, "_Hmm_" got her attention.

"What is it?" she asked. Shipey had his glasses pushed down low on his nose and was staring over the top of them, deep in thought.

"Grammar," he replied and looked back down at the tablet. "I'm just not sure now about this pronoun."

"Does it make a difference?" Quistis asked.

"Yes. Of course it does."

Exasperation began to overtake Quistis's patience. They were on a tight schedule, and he had enough to do without quibbling over grammar.

"Dr. Shipey--" she began, but her cut her off.

"You remember what the tablet from Esthar said?" he asked. "_Vascaroon buried the weapon to combat Hyne in his Trabian tomb._ Right there. That 'his' was a formal pronoun in the original; the kind reserved for things like kings and gods...his with a capital H, right?"

Quistis decided to humor him. "This one doesn't have that?"

"No. It does. Same pronoun. It's vague in the Estharan text, so I assumed it had to refer to Hyne. A pronoun that formal just had to. But these tablets use a local grammar, probably laying Centran words right on top of Trabian syntax."

"So?"

"So, even though it uses that formal pronoun, this sentence really seems to read like it's referring to Vascaroon, not to Hyne."

Quistis had to take several seconds to unravel what that might mean.

"The aeon might be buried in _Vascaroon's_ tomb, not Hyne's," Shipey concluded.

Quistis was alternately filled with despair and hope. "You're saying we might have looked in the wrong place to begin with?"

"Maybe. I'm still not sure. I mean...this is a _very_ formal pronoun."

"I think it's obvious that Vascaroon would qualify," Quistis replied. "He defeated Hyne. They made statues of him. He's all over in their temples. The man is still legendary. I think that puts him on the same level as gods and kings."

Shipey nodded. "Yes. I've thought of that."

"How long have you been thinking this over?" Quistis asked suspiciously.

"Since last night. I came across this around dinner time."

"Why didn't you say anything then?"

"Because the last time I found something like this, I was wrong," he replied quickly. "I told President Krier about Hyne's tomb, and I told him we needed to do more research because I wasn't sure, but he went in anyway. I'm pretty damn sure now that going in there is what started all of this." He looked suddenly more drawn, his face sunken with guilt she hadn't been aware he was carrying. "The texts are clear that there's three parts that have to come together to bring Hyne back: the sorceress power, the world's magic, and the physical part. Magic is so dispersed, it might have been impossible to gather up without the other two parts already being together. I think that Rinoa might never have started to transform into Hyne, despite being the last sorceress, if we hadn't opened that tomb."

Quistis felt a pang of sympathy for the professor.

"Krier wanted the weapon to protect Galbadia. Dr. Odine wanted it to harness whatever power it might have," Shipey continued. "I knew that it might be dangerous to tamper with the tomb before we really understood it. That's what I was arguing about with President Krier in Balamb. Do you remember? I think you were there."

Quistis nodded. "Yeah. I remember."

"I'm afraid to give out any news prematurely," he admitted.

"We didn't find a body in Hyne's tomb," Quistis reminded him. "You don't need to feel guilty about it. It wasn't your decision to go in there. That falls squarely on Krier and Odine."

"Maybe," he conceded.

"We need to tell everyone else. Wait here. I'll get them."

It took several minutes to round everyone up. Zell was outside, the lower-half of his body encased in snow as Selphie and Irvine built a snowman around him, and he fell flat on his face, bloodying his nose, in his hurry to rush inside when Quistis yelled that Dr. Shipey had news. The ruckus attracted the Galbadians as well, so the library was uncomfortably packed by the time they all arrived. When the professor delivered his news, Zell coughed, let go of his nose for a moment, and spit blood on the floor.

Seifer didn't hide any of his disgust when he stepped away from Zell and closer to Fujin. "We don't have time to go on another treasure hunt" he said. "I think we should head to Centra and see what we can do there. Maybe we only need this weapon once Hyne is back together again. We could kill Rinoa before that happens and save ourselves a lot of trouble."

"I really don't think that would work," Shipey replied.

"That's because you actually believe all this crap about heavens and aeons or whatever the fuck they're called. What is it that makes you think these people knew anything more about sorceress than we do? Squall killed Ultimecia. I can kill Hyne. It's the same thing. Out of everyone here, I should know."

Seifer's words hung heavy in the air.

"It's just a legend," he continued. "And we don't know where the hell Vascaroon was buried anyway. Are we supposed to scour the whole world now looking for the guy's tomb?"

"I know he's buried somewhere in Trabia," Shipey offered.

Seifer's posse jumped in to back him up.

"VAUGE."

"Yeah. That doesn't really narrow things down much, ya know?"

Shipey shrugged helplessly. "I'm not finished with this yet. Somewhere in Trabia is all I have so far."

Everyone turned to look at Selphie, who was the most knowledgeable about the country, though Quistis's mind was already racing to an abrupt, startling epiphany. She turned on her heel to glance at the statue of Vascaroon lying in the corner and said, "I've got an idea."

She had to step over several of Dr. Shipey's tablets to reach the statue. _Yes. _She'd definitely seen his face before. Now she knew where.

"I couldn't place it at first. But it just hit me. There's a huge painting of Vascaroon covering an entire wall inside of Hyne's tomb. Do you remember it, Zell?"

He shook his head.

"It's right inside the first room, the one with all the broken pottery. I swear, it's Vascaroon. Same hair, same sword...even this dragon was there."

"Yeah. I think I know what you're talking about," Duran said. "I didn't really pay much attention to it at the time, but I remember it."

"It doesn't necessarily mean anything," Dr. Shipey said. "It could just be decoration."

"Or maybe they buried him there, too," Quistis replied. "It's a huge painting, way bigger than all the other decorations we saw."

Shipey thought it over for a moment, then said, "He did take ill very quickly. Jorgan E'Lizul says he was very old, but was healthy up until a few months before his death. It's not a Trabian tradition to build tombs, so King Zebalga II was the one who arranged for Vascaroon's burial. He hadn't been king for very long, so it's possible he didn't have time to construct a new monument and decided to add to an existing one."

Quistis turned to her friends. "It's not far from here. It would take less than a day to visit the crater on our way back to Esthar."

Selphie, Irvine, and Zell looked doubtful. But Seifer utterly surprised her when he shrugged and said, "We've visited every other corner of the world. Why not?"

Fujin and Raijin were immediately swayed, and the issue was decided. They would head back to the place where the whole mess began -- Hyne's tomb in the Centran crater. Zell nodded his acceptance, and Selphie clapped her hands together, declaring that she could use the opportunity to visit old friends in Trabia Garden.

"I'm still not done here," Dr. Shipey said quietly.

"I know. Take one more day," Quistis replied. "Then we'll visit the crater. And after that, if we still don't have anything...then we'll go to Centra."

She feared that might actually come to pass, that they might never find some miraculous object or guardian force that could separate Rinoa from the tendrils of Hyne that were taking root in her like a cancer. But Krier wasn't going to wait much longer. Maybe he shared in some Dr. Shipey's guilt and was eager to remedy the situation that he had created before any more damage was done. She knew their time was running out and that Rinoa -- Hyne or whatever she was now -- was growing stronger while their magic was growing weaker, sucked away by the void of the earth as Rinoa drained all the draw points dry.

When there was no more magic, would that be the beginning of the end?

"Crecentia and I will go with you," Duran said. "You'll need our help to find the tomb again."

Quistis shook her head. "We'll find it just fine. Anyway, I have a feeling your president is going to want you in Centra."

Duran scowled, but he couldn't argue with her. He was bound to Krier's orders, and Krier had given up this line of investigation. Quistis felt a flash of relief as Duran walked away. She was eager to leave the Galbadians behind. Though they'd been nothing but accommodating and helpful in Centra and in Trabia, she couldn't bring herself to trust them. The possibility still lurked at the back of her mind that Krier wanted Vascaroon's guardian force for himself. She hoped that Duran wouldn't be able to communicate back to Galbadia before they left and hurried up the stairs to get the packing started.

Dr. Shipey didn't come up from the library until well after sunset. He was rubbing his eyes and yawning, dead on his feet. He shook his head when Quistis asked him if he'd found anything more, and she managed to convince him to eat before he crawled into his tent. Then, once everyone was tucked into their sleeping bags for the night, she climbed into her own. But she didn't sleep. She lay awake, staring at the fire through the wall of her tent until, like the night before, a familiar shadow passed by.

Her heart clenched with stubborn excitement as she pulled her coat and boots on.

"The professor talking in his sleep again?" she asked as she joined Seifer at the fire.

"Huh? Uh...yeah."

Belatedly, she realized that her immediate appearance might make her seem overeager. "I couldn't sleep," she offered as explanation. He rubbed his face, looking uneasy, and didn't respond. She was anxious to fill the silence. "Thanks for backing me up today, by the way – with my idea about Hyne's tomb. You don't normally do that."

"I wasn't backing you up," he said. "Just making a point."

She didn't believe him. A few weeks ago, he would have opposed the idea just because she been the one to suggest it. She'd always had to fight tooth and nail to get him to listen to her and respect her opinions. It didn't pass by her as any small thing now that he'd given her the credit she'd been working so hard to earn.

Their physical relationship had unavoidably softened her opinion of him. He was all the things he'd once been to her (arrogant, stubborn, irritating), but that was colored now by a filter of gentle lips and hands. It felt strange to look at him in the firelight and feel something like love. Had he changed, or had she? She wasn't sure. Maybe they both had. But she'd been thinking about kissing him for hours.

So she did. It made him relax a little, smoothed away some of that tension she'd noticed earlier. Maybe the lack of sleep was getting to him, she thought, but it didn't seem to affect the way he reacted to her. Like every other time, the fire of his passion was easily fanned and soon he was holding her tight and kissing her soundly. She didn't like to think about how easily her own desire flared up or how he could have immediate control over her with a kiss or the right kind of touch. She didn't want to think of this as surrendering to him. But, like on the Ragnarok, despite the risk of being discovered, she didn't try to stop him when he slid his hands underneath her shirt.

He pushed her coat aside and untied the drawstring at the top of her pajama pants. The air tickled her skin with a peculiar mix of hot and cold as he worked her pants off. Snow drifted in from the windows to sprinkle her hair, and the nearby fire licked at the bottom of her feet. Seifer put her pants aside, then set to work on his own. He didn't bother to take off his boots or his coat, just pushed his pants down and pulled her into his lap.

They scrambled for one another, intensely aware of their comrades sleeping nearby. The danger was exhilarating. Quistis's heart pounded, her blood heated until she was warmed by the molten flush of it.

"Shh," he commanded, though she hadn't been aware of making any sound.

She curled her toes into the fabric of his coat, kissed him hard, and pulled his hair knowing that later she might regret this, that she would wonder why she didn't say no. But right now it seemed appropriate that Seifer would be the one to drive her past common sense.

"I've missed this," she whispered as she moved on top of him.

He didn't reply or even seem to hear her. She had to bury her face in his coat and sink her teeth into the leather to keep quiet, and when they were done they sat for a long minute, exhausted. Seifer's booted feet slid out further across the floor, letting Quistis slouch against his chest. She looked up at him, admired the flush in his cheeks and the hazy reflection of the fire in his clear, green eyes. Warm contentment made her limbs heavy, made her smile up at him and her heart swell.

He glanced down at her, a strange expression on his face. Something was troubling him.

"What is it?" she whispered.

He pushed her head against his shoulder so that she couldn't see his face and finally said, "We grew up together, at an orphanage by the sea. I _remember_ you."


	25. Vidar

A/N: The next chapter may take some time to come up. I'm going to try and write ahead so that I can post all the concluding chapters in quick succession. Also, it occurs to me that some of you might be noticing similarities between my fic and Final Fantasy 10 (aeons, etc.). They're unintentional -- resulting largely from the fact that someone at Square and I share an interest in Gnosticism.

Chapter 24: Vidar

Seifer closed his eyes and let the memories sweep through his mind. There were so many now that he was overwhelmed. Wood popped in the fire and his heartbeat strained to slow as he was rocked by flashes of fireworks glittering in the deep black sky, salt heavy in the air, and a shadowy building flanked by sand and flowers. Quistis squirmed in his arms, trying to pull back and look at him, but he held her where she was and rested his chin against her shoulder.

He'd collected and killed bugs. He'd learned to fish, to build fires, to swim, and to climb the one scraggly tree that grew in the field behind the orphanage. He remembered having shoes that closed with Velcro straps, spearing a dead stingray that had washed up on shore with a stick, and taking baths in a basin where thin fingers held him in the water with uncanny strength.

And he remembered Quistis as a little girl: small, bossy, and rude.

"Oh hell," he grunted, remembering other children there as well. "Squall and Chicken Wuss, too."

"And Selphie and Irvine," Quistis whispered.

"They all remember this? They all remember me?"

"Yes. Irvine never really forgot." She shifted against him again, and this time he let her go so that she could lean back. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes dark in the dim light, and the fire behind her turned her blonde hair into a bright corona flaring out around her head.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, feeling like an ass.

She shrugged. "Would you have believed me?"

He looked away. _Maybe not._

"Do you remember anything from before the orphanage?"

"Not really."

"I think you were about three or four when you got there. I was just a baby; I don't know anything about my real parents. But something might still come back to you about yours."

She smiled kindly, kissed him, and drew up her legs which were beginning to prickle with goose bumps. He knew they should get dressed before someone else got up but didn't have enough modesty to motivate him into moving. The mental image he was holding of a little girl gave way to the woman she'd become as he rubbed his palms down Quistis's calves, hoping to keep her malleable and content. The faint possibility of someone discovering them blurred, then vanished completely from his thoughts, and he found himself kissing down the side of her neck, testing her pulse with his lips and tongue -- it was fast, strong. Her hips pressed against his for a moment and he thought she would give in, but then she shook her head and turned away.

"Stop. I'm cold."

"You feel fine to me."

"Seifer..."

He relented, letting her go, and she hurried back into her pants, leaving him to chuckle as he pulled up his own. What would the Trepies think if they knew, he thought?

"Are you going to go back to bed?" she asked as she pulled on her boots.

"Nah." Sleep wasn't on his mind; dreams of the orphanage had roused him, and he was sure that more memories would keep coming back.

"I'll stay up with you," she offered. "And I'll tell you what I remember if you tell me."

She was back in her clothes now and drew her knees up to her chest, locking her arms around them. Perhaps it was his memory interfering, but he thought she looked suddenly younger: fresh, hopeful, wide-eyed.

He wasn't interested in talking. But she quietly began telling him stories of time spent on the beach, of hot dogs and marshmallows blackened over campfires, and of the day she'd been adopted. Somehow, as if he were eager to compete with her, he began to talk, too. The dam in his mind cracked and groaned as she sparked fresh recognition of places and people and scents within him.

"That was one of the first things I remembered," she said when he mentioned setting off fireworks. "Matron was so mad at us. I'm still not sure where we got them."

_Matron._

His recollection grew suddenly darker, filled by a length of black hair and a gray, woolen dress.

_Edea_.

God, it hurt to think of her -- the woman who'd played both mother and sorceress to him. Toward the end of the war, whenever he'd looked at Edea, he'd usually seen right past her to Ultimecia. He was glad for that now, afraid what he might feel if it was his mother's face that still haunted his dreams.

Maybe, he thought, he'd start remembering some more clouded bits from the war as well -- things like Galbadia Garden, Lunatic Pandora, and Odin. A confused haze thick as valley fog had settled over those points and he couldn't make out the details anymore. Those were the times when Ultimecia had been deep in his mind. He glanced at Quistis and wondered how bad the memories might be. He'd killed a guardian force. What else had he done? Weary, he rubbed his eyes and sighed.

"Are you okay?" Quistis asked.

"Yeah. Fine."

"Are you sure? Did you remember something bad?"

"No. I said I'm fine."

"Okay. I just thought that you looked upset."

She scooted over to him, awkward for a moment, and then pressed a kiss to the middle of his forehead. It was affectionate, quick, like the way Rinoa had kissed him so long ago. And it left him feeling uncertain as she settled against his chest and shoulder. They weren't casual like this. He sat still, waiting to see what she would do, but the moment stretched until she was nodding with sleep. He eventually relaxed and allowed himself to drop back into the depths of his mind to dig for more things he hadn't been aware were lost.

She slept for a while, her breath puffing against the side of his neck. He let the fire die down perilously low before disturbing her to add another log to the pile. While he stirred the cinders, she rubbed her eyes, and though she didn't ask him to, he drew her close again when he sat back down. Hell, it was a stupid thing to do. But he kind of liked the feel of her. He unzipped his coat, unzipped hers, and wrapped them both together.

And then they slept until Raijin split them up in the morning.

0 0 0

Getting back to the Ragnarok took longer than Quistis would have liked. The whole time they were packing, Duran was trying to raise President Krier on the radio. He managed to contact a ship on the coast which patched him through to Deling City only to find Krier already gone and was franticly attempting to locate him in Centra when they left.

In the frigid calm outside, Duran's angry voice carried clear across the snow. Quistis could hear him swearing all the way to the pass and held her breath, hoping that he wouldn't run out of the temple after them. He'd already cornered her several times the day before, and she still hadn't been convinced of his usefulness. She didn't relax or feel wholly in control again until the temple was well out of sight.

Going down the mountain was easier than going up it had been and they made up much of the time they'd lost by their slow start. Morning was just turning to afternoon when they arrived at the crater.

Selphie had to drop them down through thick, dark clouds. The storm that had been dumping snow in the mountains was now sprawled out in the valley, drizzling from one horizon to the other, the mist obscuring the bright lights of nearby Trabia Garden. They circled several times, Dr. Shipey with his nose pressed to the window, but were unable to spot any sign of the tomb below. Selphie set them down near the middle of the crater at the professor's suggestion.

As they disembarked, Quistis pulled her hood up to block out the rain that was peppering the ground, turning it black as coffee grounds. Mud squished out from underneath her boots, sucked and pulled at her feet with every step.

"Hyne is buried _here_?" Seifer asked in disbelief.

"And Sir Vascaroon, too, if Quisty is right," Selphie added.

"Well I'd hope that if I saved the whole goddamn world, they'd put me somewhere a little nicer. Even the damned desert had something going for it. But this is just...It doesn't seem like the sort of place you'd bury a hero."

He had a point. This remote corner of Trabia didn't seem significant enough to house the body of a man who'd been the subject of beautiful statues and legends carved on temple walls. In the crater there was only desolation all around. Although, Quistis could see why the Centrans had chosen to bury Hyne here -- there was a certain elegance in this ruined patch of earth surrounded by verdant, virgin woods holding the body of the creator turned destroyer. But to bury Vascaroon in such a place without any outward honors and allowing his resting place to be forgotten? The thought was enough to shake her conviction.

"There were several locations we'd pin-pointed as possibilities," the professor said. "One to the north, another at the crater's impact point, and one along a ridge to the east. Do either of you recall which direction you found the tomb in?"

Quistis shook her head. "I wasn't paying close attention. We stopped at a lot of places on the way there, and on the way back it was dark."

Zell agreed with her. "But there's a tarp over it, camouflaging the entrance so that nothing will get down there," he said. "We'll know when we find it. Probably doesn't blend in quite so well in this rain as it did on a sunny day."

Once Selphie took their bearing, they started out, heading directly into the center of the crater. The walk was just as long and boring as Quistis remembered but further aggravated this time around by the prevalence of mud. When they finally stumbled across the tomb entrance hours later, her boots were caked and heavy and sweat was trickling down her forehead toward her eyes.

Raijin, Seifer, Zell, and Irvine all had to labor hard to pull back the waterlogged, canvas tarp. Slowly, they revealed the set of stone steps underneath, unadorned, plunging into the ground. This was it, Quistis realized. This was the last stop between her team and Hyne.

Flashlight on, a deep breath held firm in her lungs, Quistis went down the stairs first.

A strange feeling crept over her, an itchy shiver that reminded her of the skulls of children down below and the tiny, frozen city. Death was close to the surface here.

Dr. Shipey pressed his palms flat against the rhyolite wall at the bottom of the stairs. "Wow. The tomb of Hyne. It's never what you expect, is it?"

"We went through down here," Zell said, indicating the ragged hole they'd smashed with sledgehammers. He got down on his hands and knees, shined his flashlight through, and poked his head inside. "Doesn't look like anyone's been here."

"No shit." Seifer kicked Zell, leaving a muddy print across his backside. "Get moving, Chicken Wuss. You're plugging the hole."

"Hey! That hurt, damn it!"

Selphie leaned toward Irvine. "Sheesh. What a jerk." She paused while Seifer wriggled through after Zell, then continued. "Do you really think he's going to be any help? I don't remember him being much of a match for Squall to begin with."

Quistis tried, unsuccessfully, to hide the way Selphie's remark made her bristle: "I taught both of them. Trust me -- he can be just as exceptional. And he's part of the team now, Selphie. So give him a break."

Surprised, maybe even a little suspicious, Selphie stepped away from Quistis, her lips parted in preparation for a response that never came.

"Sorry," Quistis said, not entirely meaning it. Maybe she was overly sensitive at the moment, the pressure of the mission beginning to come down hard, but she didn't feel too badly about putting Selphie in her place.

"You coming or what?" Seifer yelled up at what he could see of her ankles standing in front of the hole. She ducked down and saw him waiting at the bottom for her with Zell whose hair jutted up from behind his shoulder.

"Coming."

Quistis slid down the incline into the sweet smelling room beyond. Cinnamon, honey, and incense: the scent of reverence in Ancient Centra. She inhaled deeply, gripped Seifer's outstretched hands, and let him pull her up onto her feet amongst the broken pottery. The room looked familiar now, no longer foreign or mysterious. The writing running in thick columns down the wall was the same they'd been looking at throughout the whole mission, and the art worked here in thick paint was done in the same style she'd seen delicately brushed across the pages of parchment they'd left behind in the mountains.

The painting of Vascaroon caught her eye, and she let go of Seifer's hands.

He stomped after her toward it, not seeming to care that he was crushing a millennia's worth of history under his muddy boots.

"So this is him?"

"Yes."

Relief -- it certainly was him. He was stylized, dressed in patchy bits of fur and delicately sewn leather scale armor, wielding a massive sword beyond all practicality, but was clearly recognizable as the same figure they'd seen in the temple. He was looking directly out from the painting, hair like flames, eyes clear and blue.

"_Oh my God._" Dr. Shipey sounded on the verge of physical rapture. "I can't believe I missed this the first time around. Look at all of this. My God."

Hands trembling, he turned in a slow circle, surveying the room and breathing like his lungs had seized and wouldn't fill all the way. The pottery on the floor waylaid him several times as he made his way across the room to where Quistis and Seifer were standing.

"What's that say?" Seifer asked, pointing to some writing above Vascaroon's head.

Shipey had to squint and stand on his toes to read it. "Looks like verse. A poem maybe, or a song or bit of religious writing." He mumbled, skipping over bits about mountains and hawks. "Here we go. That last part right there. Sort of the equivalent of rest in peace. I've seen it at several Centran grave sites. It's the only thing scholars could read with any certainty before now."

"So he really is buried here," Zell said,

"Sounds like it to me."

"Awesome!" Zell clapped Quistis on the back, knocking her forward a step. "So...uh...where? We've been down that way, and there's nothing there besides an empty chamber and a little town thing. No other burial spots or nothin'."

"Ancient Centran tombs tend to be flashy, well decorated and marked. It shouldn't be too hard to find. Maybe it's in the city and you missed it the first time through," Dr. Shipey suggested.

Seifer started to say something, but Zell cut him off. "We didn't spend much time there. It looked huge, and we just sorta went straight through. Let's go check it out."

"I think that's a good idea," Shipey agreed, and the two started toward the stairs leading down, oblivious to Seifer's irritated grunt.

"IDEA?" Fujin asked.

He rolled his eyes. "I was just thinking, if those two dip-shits would'a let me talk...shouldn't he be buried where it says _rest in peace_? Isn't that the way it works?"

Without even pausing to think about it, Raijin threw his support behind Seifer. "Yeah. You only write that on someone's grave, ya know?"

"Right. So...it's gotta be right here. _This_ is his gravestone."

Quistis turned to look at the painting, hoping that Seifer's theory wouldn't mean they'd need to hollow out Vascaroon's chest to reach his tomb. But Seifer was already ahead of her. He flattened his hands against the knobby cushion of paint plastering the wall and pushed hard, his feet sliding out from underneath him and struggling for purchase among loose sand and bits of terra cotta. Raijin joined him. Soon Fujin did, too. And with a startling, sudden groan, the entire section of wall with the painting lurched forward. Stone ground against stone, the sound reverberating painfully in Quistis's molars. The wall moved in an inch, then a hand width, and with another mighty heave it was offset by more than a foot.

"God. You're right, Seifer." Irvine urged Fujin out of the way, then took her spot and helped push. Another foot and a dark, yawning gap opened up between the massive gravestone and the wall.

"Selphie. You'd better go get Zell and Dr. Shipey," Quistis said.

Selphie jogged across the room and vanished down the stairway.

The crack gasped and breathed then settled as the ancient air within mingled for the first time in thousands of years with the fresh air outside.

"I think we can fit through here now," Seifer said. He wedged his shoulder in to be sure, and then pulled his head through. "Yeah. We're good. Raij, you might have to wait though." His hand, dirty with paint flecks that had crumbled into his grip, trailed along the wall for a moment, then vanished through. Quistis's mouth went dry. Had he really just walked right into the black chamber beyond without a second thought? In the tomb of _Hyne_?

"Seifer! Wait for the rest of us!" She pushed Irvine out of the way to follow him.

The opening was an easy fit for her and she slipped through with only a slight brush of her breasts along the wall. Irvine was close behind. She didn't stop to wait for him, but lifted her light and searched for Seifer in the darkness. He was a few steps in front of her, standing frozen in place, Hyperion gripped and ready in his right hand. The room they'd come into was small in comparison to the main gallery they'd come from with a lower ceiling. As Quistis crossed to Seifer, she noticed the evenness of the floor, smooth under her feet like a stretch of polished marble.

"What is it?" she asked. But as she reached him and saw beyond his shoulders and knew what had alarmed him.

A sarcophagus was sitting at the far end of the room, huge and heavy, made entirely of stone. It was broken, the lid cracked horizontally down the center, bowing the entire structure into the middle. And settled between the twin slabs sat a man.

Not Vascaroon.

Not dead.

But a man still as stone, too large to be human, his skin a nearly translucent green. He wore thick armor that could have been dragon scale, a helmet with backward facing ivory horns, and a piecemeal fur cloak that was wrapped around his shoulders and arms. From under the cloak a sword protruded, gripped in both hands, lying across his knees.

Quistis moved closer to Seifer and retrieved her whip from underneath her winter coat.

And in the utter silence as they held their breath, the man began to stir.

0 0 0

Rinoa walked in front of Squall and climbed the steps leading up to a towering building that was blinding white in the hot afternoon sun.

"What's this?" Squall asked. "I thought everything in Centra was in ruins."

"Everything is," she replied, apparently not seeing the contradiction inherent in her statement.

"Did we cross into Esthar?"

"No. Of course not."

He followed her up the steps, comforted by the solid stone under his feet. It was real enough. "You didn't answer me. What is this?"

"It used to be the king's palace in the Ancient Centran capital," she replied.

"How do you know that?"

Rinoa hesitated, then turned and smiled at him. "Oh. I learned it in school. Didn't you? We can stay here for a while."

She had become possessed with the need to move days ago and had been driving them hard across the desert to this building. Squall wasn't sure where on the continent they were anymore, but he supposed they were far inland now, somewhere in the middle where the lunar cry hadn't hit so hard. A ring of forest surrounded them; the mountains weren't far to the east. It was a good place to hole up for a while.

"How long do you want to stay?" he asked.

"I only need a few more days."

"For what?"

She waved her hand at him. "To rest. Come on. Let's settle in."

Squall followed her inside. The palace was in excellent condition. It looked not only like it had survived the lunar cry unscathed, but as if the years had ignored it completely. The floor was made of alternating black and white tiles that made geometric patterns on the floor. High, latticed windows filtered the sunlight to soft gold. Squall lifted his shirt to dab sweat from his brow, not sure that he was seeing everything clearly. But the ceiling covered in frescos and the patterns traced on the wall in bits of silver and gold remained. Rinoa walked straight through the room and out into a courtyard beyond where a fountain was running.

He went to follow her, but she turned around and stopped him.

"You should stay in there."

"Why?"

"Because if anyone follows us, they'll come in that way."

Squall frowned. "If we're going to be attacked, then I'd rather have you nearby."

"I'll be fine. I'm just going to go rest for a while. Okay?" She walked over, kissed him, and smiled. "I'm sure we'll be fine. It's beautiful here, isn't it? We'll be safe."

Squall watched her go. Her blue duster caught the breeze and brushed the lip of the fountain as she passed it. Something was different about her. She was sharper somehow, not as affectionate or as innocent as she'd once been. Perhaps it was stress or the power of being a sorceress finally catching up to her. He crossed his arms, irritated at everyone in Garden for making them go through all of this. SeeDs job was to defeat sorceresses -- he knew that. But he hadn't thought his friends would turn on Rinoa. Of course, the entire situation must be bothering her. He wondered if he should go after her and put her fears to rest, reassure her once again that he'd never let anything happen to her.

But he stayed where he was instead, turned around and looked at the doorway. He sat down on the high throne and propped his gunblade against the arm, grateful for this fortress they'd found.

Rinoa was right. They hadn't come for her yet, but they'd be coming soon. He'd wait and watch. And he'd be ready for them.

0 0 0

Seifer felt Save the Queen slither past his boot a moment before the man sitting on top of the sarcophagus raised his head and sucked in a deep, rasping breath. His pale, green fingers tightened reflexively around his blade, making his knuckles crack with a sound like breaking stone. Finally, his eyes flashed open. They were a dark, unnatural blue, and they landed directly on Seifer and Quistis -- the two of them standing side by side with their weapons drawn.

A moment of stunned silence stretched between them.

And then Irvine slipped through the door.

"Holy crap. Is that...?"

Another sucking breath interrupted Irvine, and the man lifted himself off the broken coffin, revealing a nest of bones inside. The horns on top of his helmet brushed the ceiling. His movements were colored with uncertainty, like he'd been frozen in one spot too long and his body had fallen out of touch with his mind.

"It's a guardian force," Irvine finished.

Was this the one they needed to defeat Hyne, Seifer wondered? Another Odin?

He turned to look at Quistis, to see if she was smiling. But she was still gripping Save the Queen and standing hunched like a cat on the prowl -- muscles coiled, eyes locked. A chill of fear raced up Seifer's spine. A second later, the guardian force took a step toward them, his sword rising into an offensive position, and Quistis bolted for the door.

"Irvine! Go!"

Seifer's legs were propelling him after her before he knew what they were about. Irvine slipped back through the doorway and yelled at everyone else to get ready. Quistis was a only a few steps behind him, her ponytail streaming like fire behind her.

The flurry of movement triggered something in the guardian force. Shedding years, tapping an ethereal fluidity, he beat them to the stone slab and pushed it shut with one shove of his massive hand. Quistis swore, skid across the glassy floor, and hit the wall hard with her shoulder. The impact made her drop her flashlight which bounced and rolled between the guardian force's feet.

Seifer barely managed to avoid crashing into her. He had to drop his own flashlight to catch himself against the wall above her head, more willing to part with it than Hyperion. He pivoted himself between her and the guardian force and then blindly cast with his free hand. A fire spell crackled and flew off his fingers.

The ball of flame hit dead on target, lighting up the scale armor and fur strung over the guardian force's chest. He fell back a step, scrambled to brush the dying embers of the spell away, and Seifer fled with Quistis to a more defensible position behind the broken sarcophagus.

"I thought this thing was supposed to help us," he said to her as he searched through his dwindling mental inventory of spells.

"He might."

"What the hell does _that _mean?"

"Sometimes you have to convince them first."

In the dark, they heard more than saw the guardian force coming toward them. They dropped to their knees, ducking behind Vascaroon's body, and Seifer heard a sword whistle through the thick tomb darkness overhead. It shaved by close enough to leave a hot wake behind in his stomach. They needed to find some upper hand or the damn thing was going to slice them both in half.

"Stay here." Roughly, Seifer pushed Quistis's head down to make sure she was adequately hidden. He'd killed a guardian force before. There had to be something he could do.

The room was partially illuminated by the two flashlights sitting up against the wall, enough for Seifer to find his mark as he stood up. Another fireball roared from his hand. He followed after it over top the sarcophagus, leaping into the acrid storm of smoke and flame with Hyperion drawn. His blade impacted hard, ground against armor without breaking through. And then he found himself pushed to the side by a powerful hand. He tumbled over the tile floor.

The guardian force immediately pursued him, faster than Seifer had anticipated. Whatever disorientation or physical disconnect the man had been suffering was clearly gone now; he moved with speed and grace, the only sound the hush of fur against scale, boots on marble, and the pounding of Seifer's heart in his ears. He managed to get to his feet again, and as the guardian force's sword swung straight for his head, he quickly parried.

Hyperion caught the blow, but just barely. The gunblade's blunt edge seared against his palm, distributing the force across his shoulders and throwing him back into the wall. His shoulder blades hit hard and the back of his head bounced sickeningly off the stone. His consciousness spun dangerously for a moment and he swam desperately through the darkness and the pain, struggling to gather his scattered wits. He had to be ready for the next blow. But when his vision cleared the guardian force had withdrawn, his head cocked to one side like a curious dog's.

"_Knight_," he said in a long disused voice.

Quistis shouted and a bolt of lightning burned a bizarre tableau across Seifer's eyes. She was on top of Vascaroon's sarcophagus, her legs straddling the severe crack where knotty ends of bones glowed eerie white in the flash. Thunder rumbled. In response, someone yelled on the other side of the door. It could have been Fujin or Raijin or anyone. But by the way the slab began to scrape across the floor again, Seifer guessed it was Raijin. Quistis hit the guardian force with another spell from her perch when he turned toward her.

"Seifer! Get over here!"

She ducked and he couldn't see her past billowing cloak and angry steel. He ran, slipping under the guardian force's sword-wielding arm. Something tripped him. He fell, his palms sliding across the floor until they burned. Instinct carried him and he was back on his feet again, reflexes already twisting his body so that he brushed aside a blow, letting it glance off his shoulder.

"Hurry!"

Quistis was looming above him up on the sarcophagus again. She was injured, a cottony gash bulging in the arm of her coat and blood running down her sleeve, dripping out at the wrist. She had a possessed look about her that he recognized: a summon lurked right under her flesh, held in place until he was close enough to be safe. He jumped up beside her and grabbed her arm to staunch the flow of blood. The flash of pain broke her concentration and Bahamut tore loose. The dragon roared from her head, materializing out of ozone and electric flash in front of them.

The strange guardian looked startled. His blue eyes went wide. Then, amazingly, he lowered his sword by a fraction, grabbed Bahamut forcefully by the wing, and yelled something in another language.

Bahamut landed with a thud and pulled his wing free. The fireball that had been brewing in his mouth sizzled, popped, and he swallowed it with a gulp. He wheezed and choked. "I protect her," he said.

The guardian force peered around Bahamut at Seifer and Quistis and said something else.

"She is SeeD. We've all joined them," Bahamut replied. Then, apparently satisfied that he'd explained himself, he dissolved away and Quistis slumped forward, released from the bond of summoning.

Seifer found himself with a sword pressing delicately against his throat. "Knight," the guardian force repeated. "Explain. What is SeeD? Why do you have archons with you?"

Deja vu. Seifer remembered holding Hyperion to Squall's throat and asking something similar not so long ago.

"SeeD protects the world from sorceresses," Quistis offered. "We junction with guardian forces...um..._archons,_ so that we can use magic."

"Then why are you here with a knight?"

"Ex-knight," Seifer countered.

Quistis lowered her whip and explained, "We're here looking for help to defeat Hyne."

"_Hyne_!" His eyes narrowed hatefully, but he lowered his sword so that Seifer could breathe again.

"Are you an aeon? Like Odin?" Quistis asked.

"Like Odin? Odin -- yes. I am." He thought for a moment, struggling with something. "I am Vidar."

The door scraped open and the rest of the team piled in, their weapons poised, and guardian forces primed for battle. Vidar didn't even turn to look at them.

"You'll come with us then?" Quistis asked. "And help us defeat Hyne?"

Vidar's face was impassive. "No."

"What? Why the hell not?" Seifer demanded. "That's why you're here, isn't it? That's what you're _supposed _to do."

"I will not go with _you_." Vidar pointed at Seifer. "I will not leave here with a sorceress's knight."

"We killed his sorceress. He doesn't have anyone he's interested in protecting anymore. He's harmless," Quistis said.

Vidar shook his head. "No. He still has the power; I can feel it in him. He cannot kill me here, so close to my body. But out there..." He glanced toward the door and seemed for the first time to notice the other people standing there. "I cannot leave here with him."

Seifer frowned. Close to his body? What did that mean?

"But what about Hyne, ya know?" Raijin said from the door.

"Yeah," Zell added, his fighter's stance relaxing. "We've been all over the world looking for you. Odin's dead. You're the only chance we've got left. There's already been a lunar cry -- we've killed two god beasts. Hyne's almost back to full strength."

Vidar wavered; his sword hand trembled. The mere mention of Hyne seemed to have a visceral effect on him. And he couldn't hide the way his overwhelming hatred threatened to override his aversion to knights. His gaze fell to Seifer's hand, still wrapped around Quistis's arm. Her blood was leaking between his fingers and dribbling over his knuckles. A strange intimacy, but Vidar noticed it.

"You," he said, gesturing to Quistis. "I would go with you. But there's a price."

"It doesn't matter. I accept whatever it might be."

He grunted, sheathed his sword. And then he was gone. Seifer blinked. Next to him, Quistis's knees failed her. A small, sad cry tumbled from her lips and she collapsed onto her shins, one hand flying out to catch her fall and grabbing bone instead. It crumbled in her grip. Seifer held her halfway up by her injured arm.

"Quisty?" Zell ran across the tomb.

Her face was ashen. She tried to get up, but couldn't quite lift herself. Seifer hauled her back up to her feet and helped her down off the sarcophagus.

"We've got to go," she said, her hand fisted in his coat.

"Hold on, Quisty. I've got a potion here somewhere." Zell rummaged through his pants' pockets. "Here you go."

As she drank, Dr. Shipey circled behind them. He angled his flashlight across the bare walls, inspected the smooth floor, and peeked in at what was left of Vascaroon -- just scraps of bone and straight, worn teeth. He shook his head, looked up at Seifer and Quistis and said, "What just happened?"

"That was an aeon," Quistis explained. "I've got him. He's with me." Despite the potion working through her, making her skin glow blue, she leaned against Seifer. Vidar's presence must have been heavy in her mind. Or maybe he was doing something to her -- exacting that price he'd mentioned.

"We did it," she continued and smiled. "Now we just need to take him to Hyne."

0 0 0

Quistis didn't bother to put her hood up on the way back to the Ragnarok. The cool rain felt good against her face and helped to center her. Bahamut was roaring distractingly at the back of her mind, and Vidar was rummaging through her fragmented memories, occasionally trespassing into private and emotionally charged areas. She struggled to stay in the present when he reviewed all the steps that had led them to Vascaroon's tomb. And when he paused to glance at her and Seifer in bed together in Esthar, she couldn't hold back a blush. Finally, as they were taking off, he seemed satisfied and relaxed.

Though he didn't tell her so, she knew that his concern over Seifer had waned. Vidar felt safe enough inside of her -- naively assured that he cared enough about her to override the risk he posed as a knight.

Once Vidar settled, Bahamut did, too. And Quistis was left with silence. She sighed, brushed damp hair out of her eyes, and leaned her head back in her seat.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Esthar," Selphie replied. "I talked to Cid, and he wants us back there before we head to Centra."

Quistis drifted off for part of the flight, exhausted from a week of restless and infrequent sleep, the long walks, brief battle, and the mental calisthenics Vidar had put her through on the way out of the crater. When they landed, Zell woke her up and walked with her back to her room in the Presidential Palace.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Sure."

"Because, that guardian force said there'd be a price. And you look really awful." He stopped and winced. "That's not what I meant to say."

"I'm fine," she reassured him. "But I'm going to skip dinner and just go to bed. I'll see you in the morning when we meet with Cid. Okay?"

"Yeah. Let me know if you need anything."

Quistis nodded and let herself into her room. She dropped her bag at the foot of the bed and peeled her coat off. It was stuck to her arm where blood had dried and she had to pull hard at the still sensitive skin underneath. Her shirt, too, took some effort to remove. The cut Vidar's sword had made in her flesh was fully healed, if still tender -- just a pale, white line now. She sighed and ran her fingers across what would become another scar.

A long shower washed her of too many days' accumulated dirt and the last of the blood. Clean and comfortable, she wrapped herself in a fluffy white robe and toweled dry her hair. She was running a wide-toothed comb through it as she walked back into her room. A cool breeze was blowing through, ruffling the curtains hanging over the French doors. Beyond, a pair of broad shoulders where silhouetted in the late evening light.

"So this is Esthar," he said. "So much has changed."

Quistis put her comb down on the nightstand. "I didn't summon you."

Vidar didn't turn to look at her. "I can come and go as I please."

She sat down on the edge of the bed and watched him lean against the balcony railing, his sword scraping across the floor. The horns on his helmet swiveled as he took the city in.

"How long have you been in that tomb?" she asked.

"A very long time. Since it was sealed shut. This was all desert when I last saw it. The Centrans were building a little colony...right over that way somewhere, by the salt lake. Esthar. I suppose that's what this..._this_ is." He waved his hand across the view from her balcony.

"This city?" Quistis provided.

"Right. City. I'm still learning your language. It's a lot to take in." He sighed. "That little colony I knew has grown into this massive city now; Centra must be very wealthy."

"Actually, Esthar is an independent nation. Centra itself deteriorated a thousand years ago, and then what was left of it was destroyed by a lunar cry. There's nothing there anymore. The whole continent is abandoned, except for a few places along the coast."

He stepped back through the curtains and into her room. Quistis pulled her robe tighter, self-conscious even though he'd already seen her most private moments in the depths of her mind.

"What about Trabia?" he asked.

"There's not much left there either. There are a few small towns. But it's nothing like it used to be. Nothing like you probably remember, anyway. They were conquered by Esthar."

Vidar groaned and pulled his helmet off. It dropped to the floor with a loud, leaden thud and he swept a hand though a wealth of fire-colored hair, his blue eyes pinched closed.

"And Odin?" he asked, opening his eyes to look at her again. "You said he was dead."

"He was killed when we were fighting Ultimecia."

Vidar nodded. "Yes. I saw her in your memories. The sorceress that started all of this, compressing time to bring back Hyne. The one that became Hyne...she's a friend?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

He lingered silently for a moment. Quistis wasn't sure what to do. Neither Odin nor Gilgamesh had ever imposed on her this way, and no other guardian force had been able to come and go at will before. She wanted to collapse into bed and sleep. But Vidar had settled into a crouch in front of her French doors and didn't appear to be about to leave. His eyes were closed and he looked deep in thought, meditating maybe.

"Why are you afraid of knights?" she finally asked, bringing his roaming attention back to her.

"A sorceress cannot kill me. But a sorceress, or Hyne, can give their knight that power. Your friend has it. He was able to meet my blow." His hand traced the contours of his blade.

"Is that why Vascaroon shut you up in his tomb?" she asked. "To protect you from any knights until Hyne returned again?"

This time his attention narrowed in sharply. He stood up again and picked up his helmet off the floor. "No. My body is there. I need a physical connection to this world to stay here. I couldn't leave until someone came to get me."

"Your body," Quistis repeated. She watched him put his helmet back on. He was withdrawing, clearly uncomfortable with the direction their conversation was headed. She looked at him hard then: at his sword, his armor, his hair.

Realization dawned.

"You're Vascaroon."

"I was. Once."

Quistis stared. Her mouth dropped open.

_Vascaroon._

For so long now, she'd been following in his footsteps, chasing after the sound of his voice whispering down through history. They'd crossed the globe trying to find out what he had known. They'd found and opened his tomb. She'd held his bones in her hands. And here he was -- something beyond human, an aeon -- Vidar.

"This is the price you will have to pay," he said softly, indicating himself. "I can kill Hyne once. But then the power will pass on to you. And after you die, you'll become an aeon, too."

She stood up, her heart clenching. "I'll _what_?"

A knock at the door startled her.

"Quistis?" Seifer opened the door and walked in. "Chicken Wuss thinks that you're about to die or something. He wants you to come down and eat." He stopped and looked at her. "Is something wrong?"

She waved her hand toward Vidar -- Vascaroon -- but he was gone. The gauzy curtains billowed in like breath sighing across the patch of carpet he'd occupied. Where was he now, she wondered? Deep in her mind? Off in the ether, in one of the many Trabian heavens? She didn't know what to say to Seifer as he approached her.

So she didn't say anything.

He looked at her for a moment, then took her hand and drew back the sleeve of her robe to see the spot where she'd been injured. He swept his thumb across it. Roughly, he drew her close. The sound of his heart beating pounded against her ear: solid, full of life. She felt disconnected from him, consumed by the idea of spending thousands of years alone in some dark tomb, waiting for Hyne to return.

"Quistis?"

She glanced up at him and he kissed her, hands cupping either side of her face, until her feet felt solid against the ground again. She didn't ask him to stay, and he didn't ask if he could. But he sat down on the edge of the bed with her anyway. And after a long moment of silence, she told him everything she'd learned.


	26. Nirvana Blue

A/N: It's been a busy month since I last updated! Sorry for the delay. I'm gearing up to write my last few chapters, and I'm expecting this fic to be complete before the holidays. I hope you all like the approaching conclusion!

_I just jumped out in the open__  
Without knowing my parachute would save me.  
It's quiet and peaceful in this emotional nirvana blue.  
_-Hooverphonic

Chapter 25: Nirvana Blue

Seifer pulled back the curtains and walked out onto the balcony beyond the French doors, needing a breath of fresh air. The railing was still warm from the sun, which was setting beyond the palace and the sky that passed over his head was stained dusty pink. In the room behind him, Quistis sighed.

He hadn't said anything while she'd talked, and now that she was done he wanted to turn and run. He knew that she was scared, but he hadn't quite wrapped his mind around the idea that Vidar was really Vascaroon back from the dead and wasn't sure what he could say or do to help. It made him feel useless. And it made him feel angry.

Quistis came up beside him. Her hair was wet and she was in a bathrobe -- so vulnerable. He could smell the fear on her, the anxiety and uncertainty. It twisted his guts.

"You should have kept your mouth shut to begin with," he said impulsively.

Her voice was small. "What?"

"Back in the tomb, Vidar told you there was going to be a price. Shouldn't that have tipped you off? What'd you think it was going to be? Something pleasant?"

Some of the color left her cheeks. "I'm still willing to do what it takes. I won't let Hyne come back."

"Someone else could have done it. It didn't have to be you," he pointed out.

"I'm the leader. It's my responsibility."

He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "The leader? Like hell you are. We wouldn't even have gone to that stupid tomb if I hadn't said that we should."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously and he knew that he'd said the wrong thing. But there was no taking it back now. He'd have to muscle through.

"We didn't go there because _you_ thought it was a good idea," she said. "We went because I decided we were going to. And a good thing, too, considering I was right. Honestly, Seifer, I thought we were past all of this."

"Yeah, well...lots of good being right has done you," he replied.

Quistis shook her head and forked a hand through her wet hair. "What's your problem?"

"I just don't see what you expect me to do about this. You want me to go back in time and stop Ultimecia from ever making any of this happen or what? I fucking _would_ if I could."

"I don't expect you to do anything!" she shouted. "I was just trying to talk to you. Normal people do that, you know -- they _talk_ to each other when they're upset. I just wanted you to listen. That's all."

"So I listened. What more do you want from me?"

She made an exasperated, disgusted sound. "I don't know. I thought for some reason that maybe you'd understand. I'm not sure why I bothered." She turned and walked back into her room.

He followed, unable to let the issue drop, and found her violently fluffing her pillows.

"So now you're pissed at _me_?"

She didn't turn to look at him and didn't reply. The thought that she might be crying seared like a brand.

"Tell me what you want me to do," he insisted.

"I think you've done enough."

He clenched his hands, frustrated, not sure what to do. He was used to confronting problems head on, violently, and one that he couldn't solve with either his fists or his gunblade left him at a loss. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and said, "If you're not going to come down to dinner, then I'm going to go."

"Do whatever you want."

Seifer couldn't reach the door fast enough.

He slammed it behind him a little harder than necessary and didn't pause on the other side -- if he stopped, he'd have to face the fact that he was running, and not from an enemy but from a shuddering, terrified woman. His ego turned the other way and pretended not to notice as paintings on the hallway walls whipped past him and his shoes thudded hard against the carpet. Distance gave him room to breathe again and think rationally. This was her own fault, he reasoned. There wasn't anything Quistis could expect him to do, and he didn't want to sit in her room all night watching her worry and cry.

When he reached the palace dining room, Laguna was pushing back from his plate, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin, and Zell was halfway through a substantial piece of cream pie.

"Where's Quistis?" he asked through a sloppy mouthful.

"In her room. She didn't want to come."

"Why not? Is she okay? I told you she was acting weird."

Seifer pulled out a chair next to Raijin and sat down. "I don't know. She's going to bed early, I think."

"Well...as long as she's okay."

Seifer scowled. She wasn't okay; he knew that. But he didn't want Chicken Wuss knocking down her door either. So he kept her revelation about Vidar to himself. As he ate, he thought about how he'd left her afraid and alone in her room. Abandoned, more like it. Cruelly, he thought that it was a feeling she should get used to if she meant to do what Vascaroon had done. How long had he been walled up in that tomb? A few thousand years at least.

"Pie?" Laguna asked once Seifer was done with his meal.

Feeling nauseated, Seifer shook his head.

He wasn't feeling much better when he got back to his room. He pulled his shirt off, tossed it in the corner, and collapsed on top of his bed. _It's not your problem_, he reminded himself when Quistis popped back into his thoughts. Rolling over onto his back, he looked up at the last of the evening sun stretching across the ceiling. Tomorrow they were going to Centra. He'd fight Squall. Quistis would kill Hyne. And everything would go back to the way it had been a month ago.

He frowned.

Returning to Dollet wasn't a particularly encouraging thought either. He'd gotten used to the idea of being a hero. A fisherman's life might not cut it anymore.

Hell. What was happening to him? He was starting to worry as much as Quistis. He put the crook of his arm over his eyes hoping maybe he was just tired. Kicking off his shoes, he relaxed into the mattress and breathed out a long sigh. Just one more night to get through.

0 0 0

Irvine invited Selphie out to dinner and took her to a trendy place on Esthar's left side. The place had a relaxed, comfortable ambiance highlighted by soft music and sunlight barely penetrating bamboo window blinds. But across the table, Selphie was frowning. She flipped her menu over to look at the back and then laid it flat on the table.

"Irvy. I don't know what half this stuff is."

He reached across the table. "Try that. Kiros says that it's really good."

"Did he recommend this place?" she asked, looking around.

"Yeah. I asked him if he knew someplace nice. Like...someplace romantic. Do you like it? We can go somewhere else if you want to."

"No. It's fine. But it seems kind of expensive. And we could have stayed at the palace and eaten with everyone else."

He shrugged. "I wanted to take you out before we have to go to Centra. Like, just you and me."

"Mmm...you as bummed about tomorrow as me? I mean, I know we've got to do it. But it's Squall and Rinoa. Do you think Quisty is really upset about it? Her and Squall are pretty close, right?"

Irvine had been too occupied by his own problems to think about Quistis's.

"I'm sure she's fine," he said.

He reached across the table and took Selphie's hand, a supportive smile creasing his lips. She glanced down at his fingers twining with her own.

"So, is this a date?" she asked.

"Of course."

"Aren't you supposed to get me flowers or chocolates or something?"

"I will. Later."

She giggled. "It's our first date! Maybe you'll get a goodnight kiss."

He perked up. Since she'd agreed to give their relationship a chance, he'd been working hard to maintain his patience. He'd never taken so long to get to first base before. Any other girl he would have already slept with and discarded. And up until now, he'd been content to live his life from one conquest to the next. But he'd never felt the surge of anticipation that Selphie's sweet, coy comment left him with. He thought about the possibility of kissing her again all through dinner.

"Do you want to do something after this?" he asked as they waited for their bill. "A walk through the park maybe?"

"Last time we walked through the park, we were attacked by a giant killer wolf from the moon," Selphie reminded him.

"Okay. Maybe through downtown then. We can look at the shops and the lights."

She agreed, and he ordered a slice of chocolate cheese cake to go before they left. He carried the box out with him and smiled at Selphie when she glanced curiously at it.

They walked through the mall and up toward Odine's lab which was now abandoned. Outside a door marked "Employees Only" that was still guarded by a magnetic card reader, Irvine directed Selphie to a bench flanked on both sides by overflowing pots of azaleas in full bloom. The secluded, darkened seat overlooked the whole city.

"Nice. How'd you find this?" Selphie asked.

"I noticed it when I was up here for Odine's wake."

"You planned our date at a funeral?"

"No. After one. I was trying to think happy thoughts."

A crooked smile split her face.

"Oh. And..." Irvine popped open the to-go box with the cheesecake inside. "Want to share?"

"How're we going to eat it?"

He grinned. "With our hands."

For a while, Selphie played the game straight, licking her fingers and glancing up at Irvine every so often in a way that made him suspect she knew how provocative she looked. But he didn't push her. He waited. And as they got toward the crust, she finally held a small bite up to his mouth. He took it slowly, his lips barely brushing the pad of her index finger. He offered a bite to her and she was more bold. When her tongue darted out to lap the last of the dessert from his fingertip, it was more than he could take. Cheesecake forgotten, he turned Selphie's head and kissed her.

Immediately, he knew that he'd violated their agreement and broke away.

"Oh God. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to rush you."

"It's okay." She leaned into him by a fraction. "You didn't."

She gently pressed her mouth to his and they sat together for a long time on the bench, enjoying the last of their dessert and the pleasure of one another's company. Irvine slung an arm around her shoulders to hold her close. She smelled softly of citrus -- like how he imagined orange blossoms must smell. The easy way she leaned into him and the relaxed slant of her lips against his made him melt. He touched her carefully, half afraid that he would spook her.

When the tenderness started to leave his kisses and he felt lust curling in his stomach, he took her by the shoulders and held her away.

"We should go," he said, his voice thick.

Selphie looked surprised but nodded. "Okay. Sure."

Their relationship wasn't just about sex to him. He aimed to prove that to her. So as they got up to walk back to the palace, he forced down the desire growling in his gut. That step would be up to Selphie to take. And he'd wait for her as long as he had to.

0 0 0

Seifer thought maybe he'd slept for a while. But as he lay in bed staring up at the shadows playing across the ceiling, he couldn't be sure whether he'd actually drifted off or had just become consumed by his thoughts and lost track of time. Night had fallen heavy and thick; it had to be well past midnight. He closed his eyes again, tried to will himself into a dreamless sleep, but his mind refused to quiet. It buzzed. It hummed. And it railed at him for walking out on Quistis.

He hated feeling this way. It disgusted him. But no matter how much he tossed and turned, he couldn't shake the feeling of responsibility that had settled over him. Damn it. He actually felt bad about leaving her. He actually wanted to go apologize to her and do whatever she needed him to do. And hell if he knew why.

The confusing memories ghosting through his head didn't help either. He still couldn't recall anything about his parents or about being sent to the orphanage in Centra. But he did remember a house, a room, and being utterly alone there. The isolated memories made him more eager to seek Quistis out. He wanted her company.

After a few more minutes, he gave up on trying to sleep and shoved the covers off. His clothes were strewn across the floor. He rummaged through them in the dark until he found his pants, then pulled them on and grabbed a white undershirt off the back of a chair as he passed, heading toward the door. Barefoot, pants unbuttoned, and shirt on inside out, he left his room and walked down the hall toward Quistis's.

He didn't know what he meant to do once he got there. But he felt compelled to go and couldn't think of any other way to spend the rest of the night. Maybe he could get in bed with her and sleep there instead. Would she let him?

_You're fucking pathetic,_ he thought, shaking his head.

He found her door unlocked. Quietly, he eased it open and slipped inside.

Her room was cool and peaceful with the windows open and a desk-top fan oscillating back and forth in the shadows. Quistis was asleep, lying on her stomach in bed with the covers pushed down to her waist and her hair fanned out loose over her shoulders. The smooth, silvery plane of her back pulsed evenly with her breath and her thin fingers were sprawled in stillness across the mattress.

He closed the door behind him and padded across the room. For once he felt like he should have come up with a game plan before leaping into action; he didn't have any idea what to do next as he stood beside her bed.

Quistis, seemingly aware of his presence, suddenly rolled over and drew in a sharp breath.

"Seifer?" she said, her voice thick with sleep. "What are doing here? It's the middle of the night. It's..." She rubbed her eyes and looked around the room for a clock. "It's really late."

"I'm making sure you're sleeping and not up worrying," he replied. "We've got a lot of really important shit to do tomorrow."

She was still disoriented but managed a scathing look that burned even in the dark. "I was. Why aren't _you_ sleeping?"

"Because of you."

"Well, I can't sleep with someone sitting here watching me. So just go do something else. Okay?"

She rolled away, curling up in the fetal position. There was space beside her on the mattress, so he sat down on the edge.

"Seifer." Her voice was sharp, scolding. "Go away."

"I can't."

"You didn't have any trouble with it earlier. I'm sure you'll manage just fine right now."

She curled up tighter and pressed her face into the pillow. Was she crying again? Damn it.

"Listen. I couldn't sleep."

"Really? Something bothering you?" she asked into the pillow.

"Yeah."

He waited for her to prompt him, hoping maybe to make this whole thing her idea. But she didn't.

"Are you going back to Garden once all this is over?" he asked, unable to voice the apology that had been floating through his head.

"Of course I am."

He reached over and trailed his fingers along her shoulder. "I'm going to go back to Dollet."

"And what? You're going to miss me?"

"I might."

She swatted his hand away. "I kind of doubt that. Go away. I'm trying to sleep."

"I told you. I can't sleep."

"Well, I _can_. And honestly, I don't see any reason I should sit up and soothe you. You wouldn't do it for me," she said with such conviction that a bolt of genuine guilt fired through him. "I tried to confide in you. I tried to tell you that I needed reassurance. And you didn't even try. I would have been there for you."

"I'm trying now," he replied.

She captured his persistent, wandering hand and sat up, holding him away at arm's length.

"Sometimes I forget who you are."

"And who is that?"

"You know what I mean. We've never been close. There's a reason for that."

She was facing him now and he could see the trails of fresh tears on her cheeks. "We're not talking about forever here," he said, doing his best to keep his voice level. It was difficult not to yell at her. "In fact, we're not even talking about tomorrow. I'm doing my best right _now_."

She groaned. "What do it you want from me?"

God. He didn't even know. There was so much he could have said, things hanging right on the tip of his tongue -- that he didn't know why he was such an ass, that her fear unnerved him, and that he wanted to comfort her but wasn't sure how.

So he did the only thing his animal brain told him to do: leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. Her skin tasted salty, sharp with despair. She sat still as his fingers tightened against the mattress and he dropped kisses all the way up her cheekbone, dabbing bits of the sadness off with the tip of his tongue. She sighed a little and her eyes fanned shut. Noses brushing, he moved to the other side of her face and slowly lapped his way down from her eyelashes to the corner of her mouth.

Here he paused. Whereas her cheeks were salty, he knew that her mouth was cherry sweet. He swept his tongue across her lower lip once, just to see if she would let him, then pressed a kiss there when she made no move to resist. His thumb dried the puffy area under her eye as his other hand worked across the bed behind her, trapping her within his embrace. He closed his eyes, willing her to understand. This was the best he could do.

He worked her slowly, kissing her and moving across the bed bit by bit until he had her face firm in his palm and she began to kiss back. Her nails scraped across his chest as she fisted her hands in his tee shirt. He let her be the aggressor -- gave careful, measured responses to the way she deepened their kiss. Finally, she broke off and tilted her head back to give him open access to her neck. It was pale and flawless in the low light. Creamy. Delicate.

She liked being kissed under her jaw and right along her pulse. He found her sweet spot and drew his teeth across it. The way she gasped and shuddered made him smile. So he did it again, sucked softly, and felt one of her hands release his shirt to move down his back.

"Seifer?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want to stay?"

"Yes."

"Until morning?"

"Yes."

She pulled him close and held him for several moments, his face pressed tight against the curve of her neck. With a deep, trembling sigh, she finally let him go. He kissed her, pushed her down against the mattress and crawled the rest of the way on top of it with her. After the nights they'd spent on the cold ground in Trabia, being in her bed with warm moonlight flooding in over them felt good. She must have thought so too because she seemed to turn boneless underneath him -- all softness and ease.

Through half-lidded eyes, she looked up at him and slid her fingers through his hair. A smile played across her lips, maybe one of forgiveness, certainly one of comfort. He was eager to tease more pleasantness out of her -- it made him feel so much better -- so he pushed the thin, tight tank top she was wearing up her stomach and gathered it beneath her breasts.

He pulled her shirt off and tossed it onto the floor, then pulled off his own. As he kissed her again, he held her tight and cradled the back of her head with his hand. Across her cheeks, down her neck, over her collarbone -- he set about devouring her. But Quistis was a pushy lover, bossy just like in everything else, and soon pushed away to drop back against the bed.

She looked up at him, her expression serious. "You've got to keep me from thinking about this thing. Every time I think about it, I seize up. I don't know how to come to terms with this."

"Keep you from thinking? Is that possible?"

She took his hands in hers. "I'm saying that you don't need to go slow."

He hadn't been trying to go slow and couldn't help but laugh. "Nice girls like it like that."

"Those kinds of girls wouldn't be here with _you_," she pointed out. "Besides, it's the least you could do for me. I'll consider it your apology and all will be forgiven."

"Everything, huh?" That was one hell of a trade.

"I don't want to debate terms right now," she replied.

Smiling, he crawled on top of her and got into a position that he now recognized but still hadn't gotten used to. On top of Quistis Trepe wasn't somewhere he'd ever thought he would be. Looking down at her now, his heart constricted to think of her transformed into a monster some thousands of years in the future. That was okay for people like Vascaroon, even people like him or Squall, but not for someone like her.

Taking Quistis's request to heart, he wasted no time removing the last of their clothing. Seifer kicked all the blankets to the foot of the bed and stretched himself out against her. On the Ragnarok and in Trabia, she'd been subdued, wary of attracting attention. Now she didn't seem to care.

He lost all sense of where and who he was as they met in a frenzy of hands, lips, and hips. Although he'd meant to take longer and try to draw the moment out, he found that he couldn't hold back and didn't want to.

"Seifer, I..." Quistis started, but never finished. He put a hand over her mouth, not wanting her to say something that might interrupt them.

Passion overtook her. She wrapped one demanding leg around his back and began dictating his movements. Her pace was faster and more punishing than his had been. He tried to learn it, to impress the cadence she wanted on his brain, and she didn't let up the pressure of her heel against the small of his back until he had it just right. Vaguely, he wondered if he should slow her down or attempt to quiet the cries that were now ringing off the walls.

But then the muscles in his calves began to quiver. Quistis was digging her fingers into his arms. And then she froze, only her hips rotating in stiff jerks. He knew it was over for her. And it flooded him with uncontainable pleasure that quickly overflowed and left him collapsed in a sweaty, panting heap on top of her.

Quistis kissed his temple. It brought him back from soft, satisfied blackness.

He rolled off her, still short of breath.

"Better?" he asked after a long pause.

"A little." She reached over and brushed an unruly hair off his forehead. "I didn't think you were going to come back tonight. What was keeping you up?"

He shrugged and closed his eyes. Somehow, she seemed to know what he was thinking anyway.

"I used to think that you didn't feel guilt."

"Usually, I don't."

She scooted closer to him. "I'm finally starting to understand you."

He doubted that -- there was so much he still didn't understand about himself. But if she had tasked herself with figuring him out, then he didn't doubt that eventually she would. The thought made him a little uncomfortable.

"And I forgive you," she added. "It means a lot just that you came back."

He decided not to question why she'd told him to leave in the first place if she'd been happy to see him. It felt good to make peace with her, and he didn't want to risk another battle.

"Are you going to stay?" she asked.

"Yeah."

She crawled to the end of the bed to fetch the blankets. They were comforting when she draped them over him. In the corner, the desk fan moved back and forth, turning and cooling the warm air. Quistis slid under the covers next to him and stretched out flat on her stomach. She fell asleep quickly, her breath puffing against his shoulder.

He still felt like there was something more he should do, felt the smoldering need to take hold of fate and mold tomorrow into exactly what he wanted it to be. But his dreams of being a great hero couldn't hold out against the dizzying exhaustion that soon overtook him, and he fell asleep as well.

0 0 0

Seifer woke before the sun came up. At first, he wasn't sure why. Birds were beginning to sing outside, but nothing else was stirring. He was lying on his side with his hand on Quistis's thigh and something was tingling at the edge of his senses. A memory? Some of his grogginess crumbled away.

He'd been dreaming about his childhood and thought for a second that he'd finally recalled his father. But the image that popped into his mind was of a tall, powerful man, a sword-wielding warrior.

It wasn't his father. And it wasn't a memory.

Suddenly, he recognized the figure.

"Stay where you are, Knight," whispered a raspy voice. Vidar half materialized at the foot of the bed, gripping the frame with one misty hand. Seifer looked down at him and thought he had to still be dreaming.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, surprised by the strength of his voice. He was definitely awake.

"Protecting her."

Seifer's hackles rose. "From me? You're a little late."

"From everyone," Vidar replied smoothly.

Why wasn't Quistis awake yet? Seifer wondered if Vidar had her under some sort of spell. She wasn't noticing their conversation and when he touched her he could feel the guardian force glowing through her skin.

"I know all about you," Vidar said, pinning Seifer with his luminescent gaze. "I know that your sorceress was the one who collected the bits of Hyne together. And I know that you helped her. You killed Odin."

"Yeah," Seifer said slowly. "That's what I've heard."

He was very aware that he was naked in bed, completely vulnerable and exposed. If Vidar wanted revenge, there wasn't much he could do to defend himself.

"Why did you agree to become her knight?" Vidar asked.

"Guess I just wanted to do something big."

"And now? Why would you help to destroy Hyne?"

"What's Quistis think? You know what she does, don't you?" Seifer asked petulantly.

"She doesn't know why you agreed."

"Well, the knight thing didn't really work out. I guess you know that." Seifer wasn't sure why he was bothering to have this conversation. "I want fame. I want to be a hero."

Vidar thought his answer over for several seconds. "I felt that way once, too," he finally said.

"You don't anymore?"

"Now I'm a legend," he replied -- mockingly, Seifer thought.

"You shouldn't be here, you know," he said, rolling over so he couldn't see Vidar's stern face. "I'm pretty damn sure that Quistis didn't summon you."

"She doesn't need to. And I'm helping her sleep."

"Helping her?" That irritated Seifer. Powerful beings like sorceresses and guardian forces never really wanted to help, and Vidar's seeming ability to bend Quistis to his will was too similar to the influence Ultimecia had exerted over him years ago. "You just don't want her to decide she doesn't want to take your curse from you."

"Someone has to," Vidar said. "But she might never get called back to earth like I have. I'm stuck here now. I'll be here forever unless someone like you kills me and Gilgamesh comes to claim my blade."

"Gilgamesh?"

"Guardian of death. I was buried with this sword. It's real enough, and when I'm gone it will remain here. Gilgamesh possesses all the swords of past aeons."

Seifer had a bizarre mental image of the guardian force adding a whip to his arsenal and frowned at it.

He didn't think Quistis was the right one for this task. She didn't even want to it; she was afraid. Vidar lingered at the bottom of the bed, apparently still keeping her asleep.

"Are you _really _Vascaroon?" Seifer asked. "Or did you just tell her that?"

"I'm Vidar now. I haven't been Vascaroon for a very long time."

Would Quistis change, too? What would she become? He imagined her as something close to a sorceress, and it bothered him. The real thing had soured his dreamy, childhood fantasies of the beautiful, tragic sorceress in need of protection. Quistis didn't really need protection. He knew she would fly to Centra in a few hours and would do whatever she had to despite the personal sacrifice. She'd been that way in school, he remembered -- devoting everything to her studies even as the chance for a normal life slipped away.

_Someone had to do it._

Seifer wished it could have been him.

He laid one hand over Quistis's shoulder. Bahamut was there inside her, far beneath the surface, a star in the night sky compared to the nuclear furnace of Vidar burning through her skin.

Maybe, Seifer thought while palming the guardian force's essence, it didn't have to be Quistis. What he if took Vidar from her now? They hadn't killed Hyne yet, after all. He hadn't passed the power on.

There wasn't time to think the idea through. If she woke, she wouldn't let him do it, and Vidar wouldn't come willingly. He had to act fast.

He seized the guardian force. At the foot of the bed, Vidar bolted to attention.

"What are you doing?"

With a solid, forceful jerk, Seifer wrested the guardian force from deep within Quistis's body. The effects were startling. She woke up as if coming out of a nightmare, eyes wild and lungs gasping. And Seifer felt the full force of the ancient, powerful aeon crash down on him. Vidar raged through his head. Quistis was disoriented from the sleep spell and the empty pain Vidar had left in her head. She didn't notice Seifer battling for control next to her.

Vidar pitched and rolled inside Seifer's brain like a crocodile. He yelled something in Ancient Centran which Seifer supposed was probably a foul name.

"_You are a knight_." His voice rattled off the inside of Seifer's skull. "_I don't trust you to fight Hyne_."

Wasn't like either of them had a choice now. Seifer pushed Vidar down, trapped him deep before Quistis could notice that something was wrong. She was sitting up, one hand over her chest, growing calmer and more aware of where she was. Finally, she turned and looked down at Seifer who was doing his damndest to look sleepy and unaffected.

"I think I was dreaming," she said.

"About what?" Seifer asked. Vidar fumed.

"I can't really remember. Apparently not anything good."

She flopped back down and scrubbed her eyes with her fists.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Dunno. Early yet."

She rolled over toward him. She smiled but kept her distance. The pale, washed out morning light made her blurry, not helped by the angry aeon still storming painfully around in Seifer's head. Vidar didn't materialize though. Seifer wasn't sure why, but he stayed out of sight. Maybe he didn't want Quistis to do this anymore than Seifer did.

"You know," Quistis started and then stopped to yawn. She closed her eyes. "Despite the dream, I actually do feel better this morning. More relaxed."

Seifer didn't reply. He didn't want her to guess what he'd done.

"I'm hungry," she announced. "I never did eat dinner last night, did I? Do you think they'd be serving breakfast already?"

"I think if you go down there and make a few demands, you'll get whatever you want," Seifer replied.

"Hmm. Maybe. I think I'll do that. Want to come along?"

"Nah. Chicken Wuss is probably already there." He pushed the covers off and sat up. "I'm going to go shower. I'll meet you down there later."

"Okay."

He stood up.

"Seifer?" She crawled across the bed to him on her hands and knees and hugged him. "Thank you."

The hug was brief, a gesture rather than an act of affection. Seifer would have liked it to have been more. He felt like she should have been down on her knees, thanking him for saving her from a terrible fate, praising his sacrifice, maybe even confessing her love. But at the same time, the thought of telling her what he'd done was frankly embarrassing.

They dressed in silence. Quistis pulled her hair up into a wild ponytail. They left together and Quistis walked Seifer all the way to his room. She stopped next to him as he opened the door.

"I'll see you down there soon. Right?"

"Yeah. Sure."

She nodded and paused, apparently reluctant to leave.

"I'll bring you something up if I don't see you."

"I'll be there."

She smiled. "It's just, last time I asked you to eat with me, you blew me off. Remember?"

He nodded, desperate to duck into his room and be alone with the thoughts swirling through his head like sediment disturbed by Vidar's passing. The guardian force had given up yelling at him in favor of rifling through Seifer's memories. It was distracting having the aeon in there, prodding at old injuries, drudging up things he hadn't even remembered clearly until Vidar pulled them out of the mire.

"See you later then." Quistis popped up onto her toes and kissed him once before leaving. Normally, he wouldn't have let it go without at least a comment, but he couldn't even think straight enough to form a cocky response, and watched her walk away from him in dumb silence.

Vidar was waiting inside his room.

"What have you done?" he demanded.

"I took you from her," Seifer replied.

"I'm _aware _of that. _Why_?" He pulled his sword. "Do you intend to kill me?"

"No!" Seifer shouted, wondering what exactly Vidar had learned about him inside Quistis's head. It was a little humbling to see himself from the outside in, the way other people did, reflected through this aeon.

Vidar strode all the way across the room in only three steps. He was taller than Seifer by more than a head and was undeniably intimidating, even though Seifer logically knew that Vidar couldn't kill him -- their lives were bound together now.

"You know I'm the better choice," Seifer said. "Quistis would have done it, but I'll be great at it. I know sorceresses. Hell, I was a goddamn inch away from being Hyne's knight."

Vidar didn't disagree, just narrowed his eyes.

"Don't pretend like you wouldn't have chosen me to begin with if I hadn't been a knight," he said, standing his ground.

Seifer didn't want to have to say that he was doing this for Quistis. But Vidar was in his head; he didn't have to. And they were stuck with one another now. Vidar had no choice but to agree.

"All you'll need to do is get me to Hyne, out of the range of the sorceresses's knight," he explained. "Nothing will happen to you immediately. You don't have to worry about that. That doesn't happen until after you die. Hopefully it will be a long wait for you in the _pleroma_. You need some seasoning, Knight."

Seifer nodded.

"Quistis thinks you're quite a capable warrior," Vidar said while sheathing his sword. "And she has a certain respect for you. I don't have much choice left in the matter. Get me to Hyne and then we can be free of each other."

"Yeah. Fine. I can do all that, and you just stay out of the way. None of the sleeping shit you pulled with Quistis, and no more browsing through my head."

The aeon grunted and vanished, back into Seifer's head where he settled in quietly this time. Cactuar shifted aside to make room and even seemed to bristle with excitement. Seifer was left in silence and relatively alone, his thoughts and memories still churned up. It felt uncomfortably similar to how he'd felt just out of time compression. He sat down on the edge of his bed and tried to sort himself out.

Some old memories had been jostled loose. One of them surprised him: Adel.

And -- _oh my God_ -- his parents.

He remembered them so vividly all of the sudden that he couldn't believe he'd ever forgotten them. They _had_ lived in Esthar, somewhere in middle in what had seemed to him to be a huge high rise apartment. He hadn't been very old at the time, just a toddler, but he remembered seeing them somewhere with Adel. On TV maybe? Or at some kind of event?

Shit. Were they _politicians_?

He rubbed his temples. Now that he was getting the memories back, he couldn't help but think that life had been easier without them. Now all the sudden he was Estharan? And he had somehow managed to make all the same damn mistakes his parents had? The same mistakes he was still making, evidently, as he was now allied with another powerful creature that could live both inside and outside his head and could bend him to its will.

He'd done all this before. Apparently it was a goddamn family tradition. At least this time he was relatively certain what side he was on -- though, in retrospect, he'd been confident that Edea's was the right one two years ago, too.

He got up, fetched a change of clothes from his bag, and showered. He could deal with all of this later. Quistis would lose patience down in the dining room if he didn't join her soon.

She smiled at him when he walked in. She was the only one there except for the palace staff. A woman stopped and filled a cup with coffee for Seifer who didn't really care for hot drinks but drank a little of it anyway. It was a peaceful breakfast until Zell arrived -- Seifer wanted to kick him in the teeth for interrupting the moment Zell skipped into the room.

"What time are we leaving, Quisty?" Zell asked.

"In a few hours. We've got to get the Ragnarok prepped and then I'm going to see if I can get the frequency for Krier's camp in Centra. I want to talk to them on the way, see what they've found."

"We should probably stock up, too," Zell suggested. "I dunno about you guys, but I'm real low on magic. I figure they might have some holy stones or something in one of the shops here. Could come in handy."

"You take care of that then," Quistis said. "Spend whatever you need to and meet the rest of us at the Ragnarok." She put down her fork and wiped her mouth with her napkin. "I've got to go shower, and then I'm going to go see Laguna."

She waved to Seifer as she left.

The next time he saw her, they were leaving the palace for the Ragnarok. Esthar was bustling, completely unaware of what was happening. Seifer felt strange walking down the blue streets and looking up at the huge, glittering buildings. Vidar liked this town, and Seifer looked at it for the first time with the thought that it had once been home, however briefly. This was where his roots were, where his blood came back to.

It took a moment to wrap his mind around. But he found he sort of liked the idea once he got used to it. Esthar was the most powerful nation on the planet. It made sense he'd been born here.

Zell was already at the air station, hauling the last of several boxes of supplies up the ramp into the Ragnarok's belly. It looked like he'd spent his whole salary plus some.

Inside, Quistis sat down next to Seifer and coiled her whip coiled in her lap.

"You ready to do this?" she asked.

"Yeah. You?"

She smiled. "I think so."

"Everybody buckle up," Selphie commanded from the pilot's seat once everyone was on board.

Without any more preamble, they blasted off into the blue dawn, course set for Centra.


	27. Beauty in the Breakdown

A/N: I'm very sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out. It was incredibly difficult and frustrating to write. I even seriously considered giving up on writing entirely for over a week while working on it. So, it's been a bit of a rough ride. But to make up to you for the delay, I'm posting not only this chapter but the _entire_ remainder of the fic. Sorry again if I kept anyone waiting

_Axe-time, sword time; shields are sundered,__  
Wind-time, wolf-time; ere the world falls; […]__  
The sun turns black, earth sinks in the sea,  
The hot stars down from heaven are whirled;  
Fierce grows the steam and the life-feeding flame,  
Till fire leaps high about heaven itself.  
_- The Poetic Edda, Völuspá: 45, 57

Chapter 26: Beauty in the Breakdown

Under Krier's leadership, the Galbadian base camp had blossomed into a viable military outpost. The stick and bramble corral for the chocobos was gone, replaced by a high fence made from fresh cut wood and filled with several dozen hot-blooded, glossy-feathered chargers. The tents had multiplied from a handful into expansive rows neatly organized around a large, central tent that was flying the Galbadian flag. And a huge war ship anchored not far off shore was providing a steady stream of supplies and personnel that had even the expanded facilities swollen to near bursting. Blue and red uniforms dotted the valley like a plague, creating an island of chaos in the still desert.

Only a few steps into the sea of humanity, an officer waved at Quistis and lifted the visor on his helmet.

"Miss Trepe!"

It was Lt. Gilder.

"I'm looking for President Krier," she replied.

"Yeah. He's expecting you. Follow me."

They swerved between half-loaded humvees and around groups of young privates who stopped to stare as Quistis passed. They had to know who she was and where she was going. But, she wondered, did they know exactly what kind of danger lurked nearby? Did they know that they were preparing to go to battle against a god? She supposed not.

Their gazes unnerved her, so she did her best not to return them. When she'd gone to fight Ultimecia, the world had been locked in the grip of time compression. No one had seen her off. No one had even been aware of what was happening as she'd walked the gothic halls of the sorceress's castle in the sky. Now there were real expectations and faces to go with them. And these men would be the first to die if she failed.

Lt. Gilder found President Krier near the middle of the camp, standing with his arms crossed as he listened to another man talk. They were both in uniform and sporting large, reflective sunglasses. Krier had a dazzling row of medals pinned to his chest. He interrupted the other man mid-sentence when he noticed Quistis and Lt. Gilder approaching.

"Quistis. I saw you land."

"SeeD Trepe," she reminded him.

"Right. Quistis, this is Admiral Zahn of the Galbadian Navy." Krier gestured toward the anchored ship. "You might have met him in in Balamb."

She didn't recognize him, but smiled briefly anyway before turning back to Krier. "Someone radioed us and said that you know where Rinoa is."

"Yes. We do. Here…let's get out of the sun first."

Krier dismissed the captain and Lt. Gilder, then took her to his tent where he lit a lamp and shooed out a moth before letting her inside.

"You're really slumming it," she said as she pushed through the flap into the small, Spartan space. As President, she'd supposed he would have at least a few amenities. But he had nothing other than a cot and a crate with an oil lamp on top.

He hooked his sunglasses on his breast pocket and handed her a file folder. "Here's what we found."

Inside were several satellite photographs.

"We've been keeping a close eye on Centra ever since the lunar cry. As you can see, these are all of the same location. The first one is an archived photo, taken over a year ago."

Quistis recognized the area. It was a section of forest north of the orphanage. The woods there were thick with monsters, so they'd spent a considerable amount of time training in them during the war. She'd been tracking a blitz with Squall one soggy afternoon when they came over a rise and found themselves looking down into a large clearing filled with ruins and scrubby, wild grass. None of the rubble had been preserved well enough to tell what had once stood there. And the forest seemed eerily unwilling to grow over the meadow, leaving it an angry scab on the otherwise lush Centran interior.

"The rest of the photos were taken over the past month," Krier continued. "There's no change until a week ago, when, all of the sudden, _this _popped up."

The first pictures had shown the valley just as Quistis remembered it: desolate and empty. But the final one, taken just three days ago, was studded with dark, rectangular buildings and was blushing with a sudden bloom of flowering trees.

"Pretty miraculous," Krier said. "I'd say it's a fair bet that's where we're going to find our sorceress."

Quistis nodded.

"I've been here before. We'll be able to get there before nightfall with the Ragnarok."

"Good. We'll be right behind you," Krier replied.

Quistis couldn't help but bristle. "What is it you plan to do if we fail? Rinoa is a sorceress and Hyne is a god. What can you hope to accomplish against them?"

"We've got enough fire power here to blow the hell out of that entire clearing. And if she survives that, then we'll be armed for a full assault. I've even got a fourth of Galbadia Garden's SeeD force here, ready to go in."

He was really drawing on all his resources.

"Aren't you worried that Galbadia will be left undefended?"

He glanced suspiciously at her. "From whom?"

"Anyone." She shrugged. "Or anything. Hyne could call down another lunar cry."

Krier shook his head. "I think this is a much bigger threat than the moon." He paused. "Or Esthar."

Or maybe, Quistis thought, his patriotism was less about his love for his country and more about his desire for fame. He wanted to be the hero in this war, had from the beginning. He wanted to be the one to defeat Hyne and reap all the rewards.

For a moment, Quistis was struck by the thought that his motives weren't really all that different than Seifer's. Still, it somehow seemed more noble in Seifer, maybe because defeating Hyne was his one road to redemption, or maybe just because he really _could _be a hero.

Gesturing to the photos, she said, "Thank you for the reconnaissance. This will save us a lot of time."

Krier smiled. "My pleasure. You're sure that you're ready? We could always go in together."

"I'm positive. We've got this."

She felt less certain than she sounded. Vidar had been silent and withdrawn all day. Even now, all she could feel was Bahamut lurking at the edges of her consciousness. She would have liked some reassurance from Vidar or some explanation of what was going to happen once they reached the clearing. He had to know the details: whether Rinoa could be saved, what effect Hyne's death might have on Squall. But he hadn't offered her anything since the night before, and his absenteeism was becoming worrying.

"Best of luck," Krier said, offering his hand.

He escorted her back to the edge of camp, a set of coordinates scrawled hastily across the palm of her hand in black sharpie. On board the Ragnarok, Selphie was at the helm and Seifer was asleep in his chair — right where she'd left him.

"Where to?" Selphie asked.

"West," Quistis replied and read her the coordinates.

Take-off woke Seifer up. He rubbed his sleep-puffed eyes and looked down on the clouds as they emerged above them and into the striking, clear blue of the upper atmosphere.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, stifling a yawn.

"Down in the cargo hold getting stocked up," Selphie replied. "You two should head down there, too."

Quistis nodded. "Need me to grab anything for you?"

"Nope." Selphie patted her bulging pockets. "I'm good."

Seifer was still working his way back to full consciousness as they got in the elevator and rode down to the main floor. He'd slept for most of the flight, sprawled out with his feet propped up on the chair in front of his and Hyperion lying lazily across his lap.

"Sometimes, I really don't understand you," Quistis said as they got off the elevator.

"Why?"

"Well…for one — how can you sleep right now?"

He seemed surprised. "I'm tired."

"You don't feel tense? Or worried?"

"Not really. Should I?"

She frowned. "I do."

Aside from worrying about Vidar, she'd been torturing herself with tactical questions that she didn't have any answers to. Would any of their remaining magic work against Hyne? Would it work against Squall? And would Seifer be willing to play defense? Supporting roles had never been among his strengths, one of the many reasons he'd never been particularly successful in team exercises.

"It's a battle," he said as they walked. "You go in, you fight it, and you live or you die. It's pretty black and white."

"But it's not. And in any case, I don't see how you can be so casual about it. I mean, do you value life at all? Yours or anyone else's?"

He grabbed hold of her arm and stopped her. "You're a mercenary. And you're pretty casual about it," he reminded her, then added, "most of the time. You get paid to kill people. It's your job. And the only reason you're bothered by it now is because it's Squall and Rinoa. If it was someone you didn't know — hell, even if it was me — you wouldn't be so worked up right now. You gotta remember that Squall and Rinoa are gone now. It's just Hyne."

It was cold, but she knew he was right. Except about one thing.

"I couldn't be casual about you," she said, aware of his fingers still wrapped warm and strong and around her forearm. "I can't be casual about anything involving you anymore. And I couldn't hurt you now."

His upper lip drew back in a snarl. "Yes you could."

He seemed absolutely positive, and it was oddly reassuring because, in his own bizarre way, Seifer believed in her.

"I'm glad that I'm going into this with you," she said, genuinely relieved to be standing next to someone who could be ruthless for her, someone who could help keep her conscience clear.

"You should stay close to me out there," he replied. "Don't go off to fight Hyne by yourself."

"I'm sure Irvine, Selphie, or Zell will be with me."

"Yeah, but…wait for me. Okay?"

"I'll be fine," she insisted.

Seifer looked conflicted for a moment before he nodded. She wasn't sure why. Was he worried about her? It was hard to tell; she'd never seen him worry about anyone before, not even himself. And the moment grew even stranger when he pulled her up against his chest, then wrapped one arm tight around her, pushing her cheek into his shoulder. A vague, electrical sensation washed over her.

"What's this?" she asked, sensing something that had never been between them before.

"A hug."

"I mean —"

The cargo bay door hissed open next to them, interrupting her, and Irvine walked out, followed closely by Raijin. The former skidded to a stop, nearly losing his hat, and the latter slammed his hand down on the button that closed the cargo bay door.

"Holy…" Irvine looked away, color staining his face. "Uh…sorry?"

"We didn't see anything, ya know?" Raijin added.

Seifer grumbled under his breath as he released Quistis, then roughly pushed his way between the two. A tense moment of silence stretched after he vanished into the cargo bay.

"So," Irvine drawled, "you're…"

Quistis folded her arms, daring him to finish his sentence.

"Hey. It's cool with me," he said, holding his hands up. "I'm just surprised. And, I guess I didn't know Seifer hugged. Right?" He elbowed Raijin.

"Yeah. I didn't either, ya know?"

Quistis sighed. This wasn't the time or place to have this conversation.

"We're on our way to the woods north of the orphanage. Krier's got good evidence that Rinoa and Squall are holed up there. You should head to the bridge. The rest of us will be up in a few minutes."

She was glad when they left. Irvine's initial dismay was already beginning to sublimate into amusement. Hopefully, Irvine would keep what he'd seen to himself. She didn't want other people to know what went on between her and Seifer late at night. Not to save Seifer's reputation or hers, she didn't really care about that, but because the thought of being the only one to ever see his face smooth and soften with affection made her feel special.

It was private. Secret. And somehow, those moments had become precious to her.

0 0 0

The Ragnarok circled as Selphie searched for a place to land in among the web of streets and the thick forest that snuggled right up to the city's outskirts. Vidar crowded into Seifer's head as he looked down at the steeply slanted roofs below. The aeon recognized it as the ancient Centran capital, restored in every detail to just as it had been during his time. Dr. Shipey probably would have had a lot to say about it -- about how the city was laid out to correlate with the constellations in the night sky or some shit like that, for sure. But the professor had stayed behind in Esthar. It was almost a shame. This city was anything but a ruin and could have easily fueled the rest of the doctor's career.

Still, there was always tomorrow. They'd fly him down here once Hyne was dead, Seifer supposed, and then he could spend the rest of his life telling the story of the Centran people.

"Look over there." Quistis pointed over Selphie's shoulder toward the edge of the city where a road cut a path like the shaft of an arrow through the trees and out toward the barren steppe beyond. From above, the flagstones looked tawny gold in the angled light of the early evening sun. "Think that's wide enough?"

"It's our best shot," Selphie replied. "But it's going to be a tight fit."

She managed to set the Ragnarok down on the roadway with little more than a muted thud though tree branches crowded either side of the ship. A damn good landing, Seifer had to admit.

"Everyone ready?" Quistis asked. Save the Queen slithered off her belt loop to coil against her boot on the floor.

Next to her, the cowboy cocked his gun. He'd been loading bullets the size of his index finger into it for the past few minutes. Pulse ammo, he'd said; the most high powered rounds on the market. A sober nod from him, an enthusiastic "ready" from Chicken Wuss, and they were on their way.

"Conserve your junctions," Quistis instructed.

What little magic they had left was faded and pale. Seifer could only feel a tingling warmth from the fire spells he had stocked; normally, they were an inferno. That didn't bother him so much, he didn't rely much on magic anyway, but no offensive magic meant no healing magic either. So once they were out of potions and elixirs, that was it. This one was for all the chips.

Outside, the sun was warm and the air was calm. Everything was peaceful as they walked down the road toward the city. No birds were singing. Not even a cloud drifted through the sky overhead. It was eerie.

"I sorta figured there'd be more…uh…bats and lightning and stuff, ya know?" Raijin whispered loudly to Seifer.

The road entered the city through a wide gate with no doors, just an arch decorated with flowers carved into the stone. An expansive agora opened on the other side, empty of the usual signs of life that Vidar remembered: merchants with carts full of linens and fresh food, citizens talking and shopping, chocobos preening their feathers, and young school boys sitting huddled around their instructor, discussing philosophy. A statue, twice the size of life, stood in the middle of the agora. Seifer walked up to it while Vidar scoffed in his head.

_Zebalga._

The first king of the Centran Empire, the one whose grandson had altered history to hide Vascaroon's real role in Hyne's defeat.

He was dressed in armor studded with cactuar thorns and a dragon's hide, wearing the beast's maw like a crown. One sandaled foot was propped up on the dragon's tail, which curved around from somewhere at the back of the statue.

Vidar seethed.

_There used to be a statue of me here._

Seifer smirked at the aeon's contempt for the old king and wondered absently if there'd be a statue of him in the middle of a city one day. Maybe in Balamb where they'd be sure to remember him. Or in Esthar where he'd been born.

Behind him, Quistis sighed and his vision of glory faded.

"What's the point of this?" she asked, looking around. "Why resurrect this city?"

"Maybe there's something here that Hyne needs," Irvine suggested.

They all walked around the statue and straight toward the heart of the city, following a wide avenue flanked on either side by flowering trees. The air was sweet — sweet and stale like it had been in Hyne's tomb. A jumbled cloud of lightning bugs was buzzing about, flickering feebly in the dying light of the evening sun.

Raijin rubbed a palm over his sweaty face. "Anyone else feel that?" he asked. "Like…like you can't get a full breath or are bleeding or something, ya know?"

"UNEASY," Fujin confirmed.

Seifer felt fine, but everyone else nodded as if some silent ailment was creeping across them, jumping from one person to another. Even Quistis was showing wrinkles in her elegant composure. Seifer watched her sweep hair away from her flushed face and swat at the bugs that were beginning to swarm with a bass hum around them.

Distracted by her, he was caught off guard — didn't even see it coming.

Suddenly he was on his knees in the middle of the road, crystals of ice racing across his skin, lacerating his lungs, sending shivers through his legs and arms that vibrated down deep, all the way to his bones.

"Refle—" Quistis began, but not before another spell hit him, shattering the ice and piercing him with a jolt of electricity that left him staggered, dazed, and spitting blood onto the pavement, the inside of his cheek throbbing where he'd bitten it.

"Reflect!"

Quistis's spell swept over him, green and soothing, Then it shuddered — _flickered_ — and rained as dust to the ground, coloring the cobblestone for a heartbeat before it was gone.

They stared. And then there was a scramble for cover.

"What the hell was that?" Irvine demanded from his hiding spot behind a nearby tree. Seifer and Quistis were across the road, not entirely concealed behind another. A fire spell barreled into the trunk, singing Seifer's elbow and heating the air until Quistis's cheeks flushed pink. Flower petals sprinkled around them like snow.

"I think it's Hyne," she said, "absorbing all of our magic."

"And Squall," Seifer added. Though he couldn't see where any of the spells were coming from, the fact that they all seemed to be aimed at him made it clear enough who was responsible.

He peeked around the tree trunk and surveyed the long boulevard they'd been walking along.

"The palace," he suggested. Nothing stood between them and the gilded building at the center of the city, dazzling in the light from the late evening sun setting behind it. Easily defensible with a wide view of the surrounding city, it was the perfect place to hide.

_They're not hiding_, Vidar corrected him. _Hyne's not afraid of you._

And why should he be? No one could cast, and everyone else was having their magic sucked away with every passing moment. Hyne was getting stronger, and they were getting weaker. Soon, the rest of the team was going to be damn near worthless. _Hell_. Maybe they already were.

"Stay here," Seifer said and pushed Quistis back against the rough tree bark.

"What are you doing?" she asked, but he didn't wait to explain himself. He ran to the next tree, the only source of cover all the way to the palace. He could have probably avoided getting hit by another spell if he'd been careful. Instead, he barreled head-long between them, taking what pain he had to, hoping to leave everyone else far behind.

As he came upon the palace and the sun sank behind it, Seifer suddenly spotted Squall on the palace's colonnaded porch, standing at the top of the steps. He looked just as he had the last time Seifer saw him: same clothes, same not-quite-there look on his face. Hyne hadn't changed him any. Not physically anyway. Lionheart was poised in a defensive position in front of him and Seifer noticed with a satisfied smirk that his rival still used both hands — a holdover from their earliest days in training when Squall hadn't been strong enough to use the standard Garden revolver with just one. His double-fisted technique had a few advantages, but it was slow, inflexible, and — more importantly — familiar. Seifer had a lifetime of experience with it.

"You should leave," Squall shouted to him.

It sounded like a challenge. A competitive chord in Seifer had already begun to hum; now it was singing loud and strong.

He climbed the smooth marble steps two at a time.

"I knew it would be you who'd come to kill her," Squall said. Even from a distance, he reeked of magic. His entire body was buzzing with it, forced to a feverish pitch by his powerful bond with Hyne and Rinoa. The palace doors were open behind him, framing him like a portrait, and beyond them was what seemed to be the entrance to another world — all black, white, gold, and hazy sunshine.

Seifer didn't say anything, didn't even hesitate, just used his momentum to arc Hyperion straight toward his opponent's throat.

Squall caught the bow and let it knock him back a step as it glanced off Lionheart's razor edge. Two years ago, it would have overpowered him. In school, a similar attack would have knocked him to the dirt. This time he was strong and he recovered quickly.

Seifer didn't have time to formulate a defense as Squall swung at him. He moved to defend himself.

Something as white and sharp as pure lightning was junctioned to Squall's gunblade. Holy maybe? Or ultima? Each parry was pure pain. Hot, liquid, melting pain. Even the adrenaline raging like a river in flood through Seifer's body couldn't banish it.

Then, from out of nowhere, Zell tackled Squall to the ground.

They rolled in a heap several times over until they crashed into one of the columns where Zell somehow managed to gain the upper hand and landed a solid punch to Squall's jaw, knocking his head back so that it cracked hard against the ground. Undaunted, Squall kicked Zell off and got back to his feet. He wasn't even dazed, though his lip was cut and bleeding.

A bullet whizzed past Seifer's ear with a terrible _zing_, then ricocheted off a blue protect spell around Squall, lighting it up like a firework. The bullet embedded itself in the stone wall and exploded with a cloud of dust.

Seifer circled around, wanting both to get behind Squall and to be able to see his teammates, to keep an eye on Quistis.

It was a moment of weakness that somehow translated into luck. He was just out of Squall's sight when the other man put a hand out and yelled, "Maelstrom!"

A malevolent, black cloud rolled over the rest of the team — a horrible, sucking blackness that Seifer was startled to recognize as sorceress magic.

Squall stepped back away from the quickly dissipating fog and retreated through the palace doors. Seifer followed and managed to slip between them before they slammed shut with a blast of unnatural wind that blew his trench coat back.

Squall was halfway to the throne, his booted feet standing far apart, each on a different colored tile on the checkered floor.

"Just you and me now," Seifer said.

"I won't let you kill Rinoa," Squall replied.

Seifer shook his head. "She's not Rinoa anymore."

Squall dabbed some of the blood off his lip with his tongue, and then came at Seifer, his normally wan face lit with unshakable fervor and bright with pained passion.

0 0 0

Quistis threw her weight against the palace doors. The acrid fog of the maelstrom spell was still hanging heavy on her and she couldn't see clearly, but she thought the ancient timbers were beginning to splinter. They should have been weak with years, but they were fresh and solid. Immune to the pain ringing through her arm, she heaved herself against them again.

"Watch out." Zell moved her aside so that he, Raijin, and Irvine could work together. The doors rattled on their hinges but held firm.

Was Seifer already dead?

The irrational thought sat like a weight in her stomach and whipped Bahamut into a frenzy. All she could hear was his wings beating against the inside of her skull as Raijin, Zell, and Irvine continued to work the door, darkness falling quickly around them. Her heart raced. Her muscles felt molten. And Bahamut roared deafening thunder as she suddenly found and grasped a thread of power deep within her.

"Out of the way!" she yelled, her voice shrill.

The old blue magic was already welling up. No stopping it now.

"_Ray bomb."_

0 0 0

Seifer ducked behind the throne to avoid a spell, then rolled away from it and cast his own, hoping it might survive long enough to reach his opponent. It didn't. The fireball sparked, died, and sank into Hyne's abyss.

Then Squall was on him. Lionheart sliced through his forearm as he scrambled out of the way. Blood dribbled down and collected his his left hand, but he felt no pain.

The explosion that blasted the palace doors open, knocking one all the way off it's hinges so that it slammed drunkenly into the wall, barely merited a glance from Seifer. For once, he had allies on the other side. But Squall fumbled — stopped to watch the smoke and debris clear. And it was enough time for Seifer to knock him back against the throne and leap on top of him. With all his weight behind it, he drove Hyperion straight down toward Squall's jugular. The hazy flare of Squall's protect spell deflected the thrust but didn't stop it. Hyperion ripped a line across Squall's cheek, spraying vivid scarlet across the furry, white collar of his coat.

Someone yelled: "Zell! Help him!"

_Quistis_.

He almost turned to look at her.

But then he didn't need to. She was running by him, further into the palace, a flash of righteous gold. Immediately, he knew where she was going — off to fight Hyne, believing she could save them all.

"Quistis! Stop!"

She didn't.

She ran around the throne and out a rear door and into courtyard beyond, leaving Seifer behind, horrified.

But he didn't have much time to contemplate his guilt or even form a new plan. Squall's elbow slammed into his jaw like a bullet, snapping his head back and clacking his teeth together so hard he thought that some of them must have cracked. He was rocked backward and Squall hit him again, with his left hand this time, right in the gut, tumbling him onto his rear and forcing all the air out of his lungs.

His head ached, and he was gasping for breath, his lungs on fire. And his arm was still bleeding, making his grip slippery so that he struggled to find purchase against the smooth floor.

Squall got back to his feet and held out one hand.

"Death," he commanded, his voice booming all the way to hell.

A spot on the floor next to Seifer's hand began to melt and bubble and the air filled with the hot stench of brimstone as a fissure opened up.

_Move!_ Vidar commanded.

Seifer tried. But he still couldn't manage anything more than quick, shallow breaths and was clumsy as he struggled to his feet. The demon scratching his way to the surface from between the floor tiles, however, possessed unnatural speed and was already raising a bony scythe as Seifer turned to meet him.

Swiftly, Vidar clamped down on Seifer's motor functions and took control.

The demon swung at him, and Seifer watched as Hyperion caught and held the inside curve of the scythe. The effort required to keep the position was enormous, and though his legs longed to buckle and his lungs felt like they might sooner fill with blood than oxygen, Vidar held him in place.

Out of his peripheral vision, Seifer saw Selphie skid to a stop nearby. She braced her feet far apart and began twirling her nunchaku, then held it above her head, her muscles stretched until she was standing as tall as she could. A deep spell began to work its way out of the tight cord of her unsprung body.

The demon growled, the sound echoing in its empty skull and disengaged his blade from Seifer's. At the same time, Vidar thrust him back in control and he teetered dangerously but remained upright by bending over and gripping his thighs. There wasn't much he could do but watch as the demon turned and raised his scythe again, this time bringing it down on Selphie. It snared her like a hook, curving over her shoulder to sink in between two of her ribs and piercing her body cavity with a flash of red magic.

She gasped and her eyelids fluttered as the death spell raced through her system.

"_Selphie_!"

Irvine bolted across the room, his weapon drawn. He emptied an entire clip into the demon, blowing off bits of horn, bone, and cape. And still he pulled the trigger, even after the spell had faded and his ammo had been spent.

Selphie collapsed onto the floor and her nunchaku skid across the tile until it hit Squall's boots.

"Oh God! Selphie?" Irvine collapsed onto his knees and hauled her limp body into his lap. She didn't blink, didn't breathe.

Squall looked shocked. His blue eyes were wide, the twilight not yet dark enough to hide the surprise in his expression.

"She's dead!" Irvine said, his voice raspy and desperate. Hot tears screamed down his cheeks.

Irvine desperately searched his pockets for something to revive her — yelling for phoenix down, pinions, anything. Coming up bare, he turned to Squall with a snarl. "You bastard, she's dead!"

He raised his gun, loaded several bullets into the chamber, and fired. Squall's upper body twisted violently to the side as the slug hit him hard in the shoulder.

"I—I don't…" Squall stuttered, gripping his wounded shoulder. He looked distraught and confused.

It was a window, a brief respite. Seifer took it knowing there might not be another.

He gathered his strength again and ran right past Squall, who was still shuddering from his brush lucidity. Seifer's lungs continued to pinch and sear as his legs propelled him out of the throne room and into the massive courtyard. There was no time to think about any of it. No time to feel. He just ran.

0 0 0

Quistis pushed past the feathery leaves of several overgrown ferns out of the way as she moved down the courtyard path. Vidar still hadn't appeared to help her, and she felt suddenly alone, abandoned to the growing night and darkening fate. The rest of the palace loomed before her. It blocked out the sky which had gone from pink, to blue, and was finally settling on indigo. The path she'd been following looped back and forth, around fountains and between trees filling with lightning bugs. Would it be faster, she wondered, to go straight through the brush? She needed to be quick if she wanted to save Seifer and Squall.

"Hey! Quistis! Wait!"

Surprised, she turned around and found Raijin running awkwardly up to her, his arms flailing.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "Why aren't you helping Seifer and the others?"

"I'm going with you, ya know?"

"It's probably best if just I go," she replied and started down the path again. Raijin jogged to keep up with her.

"Seifer told me to keep an eye on you," he said, a little out of breath. "Said to keep you safe, ya know?"

"He told you to stay with me?"

"Yeah."

As patronizing as it was, Quistis warmed a little.

"Do you have any magic left?" she asked, giving in.

They ducked under a low hanging branch.

"Not much. Just a little bit of thunder that I have junctioned to Quetzalcoatl."

"Okay. Stay behind me then and keep up."

"Sure. I'll watch your back."

They quickly found a doorway leading into the rest of the palace on the other side of the courtyard. The large, wooden doors were closed but weren't latched or locked and Quistis was able to push one of them open on her own, revealing the lush interior of Zebalga's ancient Centran palace. Lit by lanterns hanging on the walls, the palace had the plush air of unreasonable wealth and the thick style portrayed in old movies about harem girls. The floors were covered in thick, woven rugs decorated with geometric patterns. And tapestries similar in style to the paintings they'd found in Hyne's tomb and in the necropolis in Dollet covered large swaths of the walls.

"This way," Quistis whispered. The pull of Hyne's power was stronger here. She could feel the ancient god tugging at her blue magic, and she could feel Bahamut growing ill at ease as they advanced further into the palace.

"What do you think we're going to find?" Raijin asked quietly. "Like, what _is _Hyne, ya know? A monster? Or a person?"

Quistis shrugged. "I don't know."

They walked through several massive rooms, following their instinct and blind luck, before coming to a stairway that spiraled upward. Quistis put her hand to the wall as she began to climb. The stone sliding under her palm was warm, as if it had been recently baked. A few high, square windows let dim light in from the outside, but between shafts of moonlight, the stairway was pitch black. Quistis could hear Raijin breathing behind her and every once and a while he reached forward to touch her back.

They had climbed a considerable way when he fisted his hand in the back of her shirt and whispered, "Look!"

A flickering light was filtering down to them now, casting faint shadows across the walls.

"We must be near the top," Quistis said.

"You should let me go first, ya know?" Raijin suggested as she continued up the steps.

"No. It's okay."

He pulled her back. "Seifer'd be pissed. Let me go first."

Irritated now, Quistis shrugged out of his grasp. "Seifer won't know," she replied.

Raijin's hand dropped to his side and he didn't try to stop her again, though he kept uncomfortably close at her back, a pit bull on guard. "There isn't really anything that we have to do anyway," she whispered to him as they climbed toward the light. "Once we find Hyne, Vidar should do the rest."

It was supposed to be simple.

The stairs ended at what must have been the top floor of the palace. Aside from the same, familiar rugs, there were no other furnishings, just a gigantic, open room punctuated by thick pillars holding up the vaulted ceiling. A fire burned in a pit hearth in the middle of the room, the smoke puffing out a circular hole in the roof. And beyond the leaping flames, silhouetted in front of a window, stretched what looked like a pair of black wings, shifting and rustling against the walls.

Quistis blinked, and they were gone.

Had they only been shadows? She wasn't sure.

A woman remained, dark-haired and delicate, dressed in blue. She lifted one finger in the air with a fluid, unconcerned movement of her arm. A signal — quiet, wait.

And then she turned and smiled.

"Quistis," she said, her pale face eerily radiant in the firelight. "I'm glad it's you."

_Oh no. _

Quistis's mouth went dry.

_Rinoa._

0 0 0

Spectral wails followed Seifer out into the palace courtyard: those of Irvine clutching the lifeless body of his girlfriend and those of Squall, caught up in the pain and betrayal weaving thick and hoary webs between them. Seifer flinched as several more gunshots echoed hollow against the stone walls, muzzle flashes reaching him like distant bolts of lightning. And then something else thundered across his senses: a red roar that could have been anything.

Maybe Ifrit.

_God. _Seifer hoped it was Ifrit.

He felt like a coward. Fujin was still back there. And here he was, running his ass off, panting and sweating. He'd never run from a battle in his entire life. It grated on his soul to do so now — and for Quistis, from Squall. Was this a nightmare? Or had he just lost his fucking mind?

The moment of doubt fired hot and hard.

But it burned out quickly.

_Hurry,_ Vidar urged him on. _I won't be able to hold on to all of your magic forever._

The path through the courtyard twisted and slithered. Seifer came to a junction where two paths crossed at a fountain and stopped. There had to be a faster way to get where he was going. But the whole courtyard was completely overgrown, a veritable cretaceous rainforest. He hefted Hyperion against his shoulder, thinking to slash his way through.

_Look out!_

Something hit him hair square in the small of his back, knocking him flat on his stomach on the cobblestone walkway. Distantly aware that he was on fire, he rolled over onto his back to smother the flames. He was still processing what it meant — that Squall was alive, had followed him, and everyone else he'd left behind was either seriously injured or dead — when a flash of blue came racing at him. There wasn't time or opportunity to do anything about it but try to take the hit somewhere non-vital: an arm, leg, or hand. So he tensed, ready to defend himself with flesh and bone.

Squall was a fraction of a second away now. Less than a breath. Less than a blink.

And someone stopped him.

Metal screamed against metal.

Squall gasped and stumbled back out of Seifer's view, which was suddenly dominated by the vast, worn fur hanging from Vidar's wide shoulders.

The aeon bent down and plucked Seifer up off the ground by the front of his shirt.

Squall was looking at Vidar with a mixed expression of horror and blood lust, clearly recognizing the guardian force for what he was. The secret was out, Seifer realized. And as Squall launched across the cobblestone path with an acidic cry wrenched from the darkest depths of his gut, Vidar vanished. No puff. No flicker. He just ceased to be, instantly back inside of Seifer's head.

Seifer didn't miss a beat. He pivoted quickly and gracefully on his toe, turned, lowered his shoulder, and met his startled adversary. Squall ran right into him, the air bursting from his lungs as he was driven back a step, then was finally forced over his center of gravity. Seifer threw him to the ground and kicked him hard, the steel toe of his boot driving deep.

"Seifer!" Squall gasped. "You can't do this! You can't!"

"Watch me."

Squall managed to grasp the end of Seifer's coat and pulled him off balance long enough to regain the upper hand.

"She loved you once, you know," he said as he kicked Seifer hard in the knee.

A bloody knuckled punch to the cheek threw Seifer back a step toward the fountain. Ignoring all the pain ringing through his whole body, Seifer gestured to Squall with his gunblade.

"Did you kill them all back there?" he asked. "Selphie and Irvine and Chicken Wuss?"

"It's for Rinoa."

Seifer didn't hear even the slightest hint of uncertainty in Squall's voice. "You're on the wrong side," he said, feeling a strange sort of deja vu.

Squall shook his head. "Doesn't matter. You know that."

Squall's sword hand was trembling, growing weak as blood flowed out of his arm through the bullet wound in his shoulder which he hadn't bothered to try to heal. Seifer wasn't doing much better. His clothes were singed; he was bruised and beaten. But they circled one another like panthers.

"I'll kill you if I have to," Seifer warned.

Squall nodded.

And they came at each other.

0 0 0

Doubt snared Quistis like a net. Looking across the fire now at Rinoa's face, she was hit with the terrible reality of having to kill someone she loved and then live with the consequences of what she'd done forever. It crushed her all over again.

"Quistis?" Rinoa tilted her head to the side and began to walk around the fire toward them.

"Stop."

She did, but her mouth twisted into a deep-set frown. One hand came up to grip the rings hanging off her necklace. The gesture was so distinctly Rinoa, so vulnerable and nothing that Hyne should have known, that she might as well have been squeezing Quistis's heart. It pained her to watch.

"It's okay," Rinoa said. "Really. It's me."

Raijin grunted, clearly not swayed.

"I know why you're here," Rinoa continued and started walking slowly toward them again. "I know what happened to me, and I know that you came here to try to kill me. But you can't, Quistis."

Her doe eyes glittered with desperation in the firelight.

"Where is Hyne?" Quistis asked.

"Gone."

Was it possible? Could Rinoa have overcome the possession somehow? Could she have fought against it from the inside? Vidar had yet to appear, and if anyone on earth could tell the difference between a sorceress possessed and one in her right mind, he could. Perhaps his very absense was proof Rinoa was telling the truth. For a thrilling moment, Quistis believed it was true. But Raijin seized her arm and whispered harshly in her ear.

"_Kill her_."

Quistis shook her head.

"Do it now," he whispered again. "That's not Rinoa."

"No!" Rinoa barked. "You know this is wrong. You _know_ I'm not the enemy."

Quistis felt like she was stretched out on a medieval wrack, emotional joints popping and threatening to come out of place as she looked back and forth from Raijin to Rinoa. She wasn't sure who to believe or what to choose: the safety of the old life she'd known, or the strange new world unfolding before her, complete with a life built on Rinoa's ruin and an eternity alone as a warrior in waiting.

"Quistis!" Raijin hissed in her ear, his grip on her arm now painful.

As it had so many other times in her life, duty surged to the surface and overcame her fear.

"I'm so sorry," she said as she dug deep, turned inward, and summoned Vidar to her.

No one moved.

And then, Rinoa smiled.

"You are no threat to me," she said and turned back toward the fire. The heat radiating off the blaze moved her hair about her face. "But like I said, I'm not the enemy here."

Something like panic seized Quistis as she summoned Vidar again and again. His presence was there in her mind like a word that wouldn't quite come. A phantom memory of someone long departed. An impression. A photograph. But she realized with sharp horror that the weight and heat of him was gone. Had been all day.

And that meant…

_Seifer?_

"I can't let you leave," Rinoa said as Quistis's legs moved to take her back down the stairs. Quistis wasn't sure if Rinoa has cast some spell or if she just couldn't physically bring herself to not to as ordered, but both she and Raijin froze in place. "Just wait right there," Rinoa continued. "It's all almost over anyway."

"Hyne, then," Quistis said. "Is there anything left of Rinoa in you?"

"Your friend is gone," Hyne replied. "But don't be afraid. Don't fret for her. She did her part."

"Did her part?" Quistis said, furious. "Rinoa never would have had _any_ part in this if she'd been given the choice!"

"In the end, she _chose_ to go," Hyne replied. "She saw what waits out there, beyond the mortar of pain and violence that holds this world together. You'll see, too. It can be so much better than this. Think back — remember your childhood. You were fresh from heaven then. Wouldn't you like that feeling back?"

"No," Quistis replied honestly.

Hyne shrugged. "Doesn't matter. There won't be any need for people like you when I'm done."

"And you'll start with the children?" Quistis asked, thinking of the stories she'd head about Hyne when she was little.

Hyne swept a hand through the fire once and fisted a ball of flame in her palm. "They're not yet attached to this life," she said, then continued, her voice wavering with echoes of inhuman tones: "It disgusts me what you do. This is _my_ power. And you do such vile things with it. It's irredeemable. Unforgivable."

A hard tug at Quistis's blue magic radiated pain all the way through her bones.

"I would like the last of my magic back now," Hyne said.

She turned around, alight with something terrible, and gestured at Raijin. Quistis watched, unable to move or do anything to help, as Hyne ripped the last of Raijin's thunder magic from his body, forcibly tearing his bond with Quetzalcoatl, who manifested in a halo around him — a frenzy of screeching and beating yellow wings. The process came to a spectacular and abrupt end as the bird's specter collapsed into a deafening crack of thunder that rolled through the room. Raijin sank to the floor as Hyne let him go, sweaty and panting.

She turned to Quistis then, some of her mask dropping to reveal the awful visage beneath. Then pain speared Quistis straight through the gut.

"Ah, yes. Bahamut," Hyne said, the fire roaring unnaturally high behind her. "I remember you."

Then the guardian force's roars and blinding agony drowned out everything else.

0 0 0

A monstrous clap of thunder broke Seifer's concentration, making him stumble. Luckily, Squall did, too. Both men were wet with sweat and blood. Dizzy, weak, and at an impasse, they stared at one another. Seifer wasn't entirely sure how he was still standing. And he was even less sure how Squall was managing to. They were both in bad shape.

"I bet that was Quistis," Seifer said, too terrified and exhausted to hide the note of alarm that chimed in his voice. "She's in the palace with Rinoa right now."

What little color remained drained from Squall's face, and he dropped his guard entirely to turn and look at the palace.

_I could kill him,_ Seifer thought, imagining ending it all with one clean swipe of Hyperion through the knotty cords of Squall's throat.

But he didn't.

Instead, he dried some of the blood off his face with his coat sleeve, tapped into his last reservoir of energy, and knocked Squall right over the fountain wall. He tumbled head first into the water. Then Seifer was running hard along the courtyard path.

"No!" Squall yelled somewhere behind him. But the foliage was too dense to cast through, so Seifer had cover all the way up the palace door, and by the time he reached the building, he had a significant lead. All concern over Squall faded into the background as Seifer leapt up a set of stairs and into the palace, his dirty boots leaving behind black smudges on the carpets as he ran down the long corridor before him.

A long, chilling roar that he recognized immediately echoed down the hallway. It washed over him, leaving a wake of empty desperation behind. Vidar's anxiety grew as well as the anguished and angry sounds became clearer the further Seifer ran. Vidar became suddenly like a shark that had scented blood -- fate, instinct, and old memories driving him into a frenzy. Violence threatened to erupt. And the hot, pulse-pounding energy of it was all that kept unfamiliar dread from overwhelming Seifer.

Quistis was up there somewhere. And he was simultaneously frantic to get to her and afraid of what he might find. He didn't quite know what to do with his feelings. But Vidar helped him barrel on, up to a set of spiral stairs winding into darkness.

At the top, he found himself in a room half filed by fire and half filled by Bahamut's twisting, wretched form. The tableau was so striking that Seifer stopped and stared.

Bahamut roared again, drops of blue fire streaming from his mouth like fallen stars. On the floor, they whipped about in the whirlwind created by his flapping wings and mingled with a red and yellow burst of flame that outlined a dreadful silhouette of huge pitch black, skeleton wings that scraped the ceiling. They were attached to a writhing mass of body which seemed to shift and morph in the light, bits of what looked like spiderweb rising off it like hair.

In the middle of it all, standing in a pool of vivid, blue that was licking her skin and throwing her hair back from her neck, was Quistis. Her lips were parted and her eyes were closed. Bahamut was holding tight to her with his tail, which wrapped thick and snake-like around her mid-section.

Vidar tore free of his mind then, and the full force of Seifer's injuries and exhaustion leveled him. Pain blurred his vision as the aeon strode forward, sword naked and balanced in one hand.

"_You_," Seifer heard an old, guttural voice say.

Vidar brushed past Bahamut, and then a blinding light forced Seifer's eyes to reflexively close. There was no sound, no great whoosh of air, no explosion. Just heat and power and a sharp, sweet smell that made his nose burn.

Just as quickly, it faded. And he found himself lying on the floor, searching the room for some sign of Quistis as Squall came rushing to the top of the stairs, fat tears cascading down his ruddy face, screaming Rinoa's name.

Only a skeletal shell of scale, feathers, and web was left of Hyne. The huge wings were gone. And so was Rinoa.

Squall dropped to his knees beside the remains and clutched them to his chest. The smoldering feathers disintegrated in his hands like dying embers as he sobbed into them.

"Oh no. _Rinoa. No._"


	28. Angel Wings

_Now do I see the earth anew  
Rise all green from the waves again;  
The cataracts fall, and the eagle flies  
And fish he catches beneath the cliffs. […]  
Then fields unsowed bear ripened fruit,  
All ills grow better…_  
- The Poetic Edda, Völuspá: 59, 62

Chapter 27: Angel Wings

A black fog of agony had settled over Quistis. She lay with her eyes closed, wholly wrapped in the shell of her body, unaware of where she was or why the inside of her skull felt like it had been scraped clean like a jack-o-lantern. Something in the void was moving though, pushing at her consciousness and telling her to get up. For a while, she ignored it. Then it became insistent; it called her by name. And finally, she opened her eyes.

Firelight illuminated the ceiling far above her. She saw suddenly, as if in a dream, her confrontation with Hyne. She saw Bahamut rising up out of her unconscious, resisting like so much muscle and bone as Hyne attempted to wrest him from the fiber of Quistis's being. The agony of it was still ringing through her body.

She thought then of Seifer and sat up too quickly. Black spots crowded her vision as she searched the room for some sign of him. Between them, she spotted something familiar. Something heartbreaking.

_Squall._

His hair was hanging in front of his face and he was on his knees by the fire, clutching something to his chest. More than beaten, he looked broken, almost physically vacant as he gave himself to grief. Now that they'd been enemies, she was hesitant to go to him or try to comfort him, not sure he'd accept any of her sympathy. Still, she couldn't help but breathe his name. But he didn't turn to look at her.

Then movement, caught out of the corner of her eye, distracted her. It was Vidar sheathing his sword and leaning down over a heap of gray trench coat that barely stood out against the stone floor. He reached out with one large, green hand and gripped Seifer's still shoulder.

"Oh no." Quistis tried to get up, though the world began to pitch and spin around her. "Wait! Stop!"

Vidar glanced over his shoulder at her. Then a large, heavy hand pulled her back down.

"It's okay, ya know?" Raijin whispered in her ear. "We did it. Hyne's dead."

Quistis didn't feel victorious as she watched Vidar kneel down and pull Hyperion out of Seifer's hand. He turned the blade over, ran it broad side down both of his palms, then kissed the hilt before tucking it back against Seifer's side. Then he murmured something Quistis couldn't hear and stood back up. A kiss, a word, and he'd passed on his fate. The mission was Seifer's now. The one, she thought, that should have been hers.

Guilt made her heart spasm.

Vidar took several steps over to Squall then and made a sign with one hand. The gesture, with whatever power it had, made Squall sigh and release his grip on the husk of Hyne's body. He lifted his head and looked up at the aeon standing next to him.

"It's over now. Peace, Knight," Vidar said, then vanished.

"See, it'll be okay," Raijin said and squeezed Quistis's shoulder. "Here. Take this."

He pressed a potion into her hand. It was nothing but water now, having lost all of its healing power, but she unscrewed the cap anyway and tipped the bottle to her lips. The cool splash helped to center her. She saved half the potion, crawled across the room to Seifer, and gently rolled him over onto his back.

Up close, she could see the punishment he'd suffered at Squall's hands. There'd be plenty of swelling — the side of his mouth was already beginning to puff, a black bruise the size of a fist coloring his skin. And his breathing was shallow, making her wonder if any of his ribs were cracked or broken. Carefully, she dripped some of the potion onto his lips, then wetted her fingers and used the rest of it to clean the blood off his face until his eyelids began to flutter.

"Hey. Come on," she said. "Wake up."

Slowly, he did. His green eyes were startlingly clear in the firelight.

"Quistis?" he said, then frowned and closed his eyes again. "God. I feel like shit. Is Hyne…?"

"Gone."

"And you?"

"I'm fine."

He sighed. "Good."

As Quistis swept a stubborn bit of hair away from his face, tears suddenly welled up and filled her eyes so that she couldn't see him clearly. She bent down and kissed him. It made him wince despite her efforts to be gentle. But he kissed her back anyway and even lifted a bloody hand to cradle the back of her head. When he let her go, she found both Squall and Raijin watching them. The former blinked long and hard, as if holding back tears — or maybe judgement — and when he turned away she saw a long cut along his cheek that was still bleeding.

They were all in bad shape. Without magic there wasn't much she could do for either Squall or Seifer here; they needed to get back to the Ragnarok.

Fujin's voice suddenly echoed up the stairway.

"SEIFER!"

She appeared a moment later, her clothing filthy and her eyepatch slightly askew. "Seifer!" she repeated, quieter this time, and jogged over to him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He waved away her concern and sat up on his elbows. "I'm great."

"No you're not," she replied, her quick gaze raking over him and then darting briefly to Quistis. "You're badly hurt."

"Hey. I am, too," Raijin said from across the room, then added pitifully, "ya know?"

Fujin glanced at him and waved dismissively. "FINE!"

"Is everyone else okay?" Quistis asked as Fujin crouched down beside her.

"MOSTLY."

Alarmed by her evasive response, Quistis looked down at Seifer and asked, "Do you think you can walk?"

"Yeah. I walked the whole damn way here. I'm fine." He sat up a little more and hissed, his movements stiff.

"We'll help you," she replied and motioned to Fujin. "Raijin. Think you can help Squall?"

"Sure." Raijin walked over to Squall who was still sitting quiet and pale, immersed in his own personal hell. There was something comforting in the way he looked up at Raijin though — he was lucid, Squall again. "Come on." Raijin offered a hand.

Their progress out of the palace was slow and painful. The stairway was just barely wide enough for Quistis and Fujin to pass through with Seifer in between them. By the time they got to the bottom, Quistis's shoulder felt rubbed raw from scraping against the wall and Seifer was leaning heavily on her shoulders. He was sweating and swore under his breath in frustration when they stopped at a fountain in the courtyard to rest.

The dull ache in Quistis's head had amplified into skull splintering agony once they finally reached the throne room. Drunk with the adrenaline keeping her legs moving, she stumbled into the room without looking and almost ran into Zell who startled her by reaching out and grabbing both her and Seifer, holding them upright.

"Hey. Quisty?"

"I'm okay." She pushed away from him and they all sank down onto the floor. Seifer was gasping in short, staccato breaths.

"You must've—" Zell started, then took a breath. "Is Rinoa…? And, oh my God, is that Squall?"

"Squall's okay," Quistis said. Then, swallowing past a lump in her throat, said, "But Rinoa's gone. Listen, we need to get back to the Ragnarok. The Galbadians should have a medical team with them. If we can fly out and meet them—"

Zell interrupted her. "We can't."

"What? Why?"

His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "Selphie."

Zell glanced behind him and Quistis followed his gaze to Irvine who was sitting in just his pants and vest. His hat was on the floor beside him, his bare arms cradling Selphie who was wrapped in his coat, her still, waxy face pillowed against his shoulder.

"What happened?" Quistis asked.

"Got hit by a death spell," Zell explained. "Fujin had some phoenix down. It brought her back a little bit — we've got a pulse now, and she's breathing. But…that's it. We can't wake her up." Zell forked a hand through his hair. "We tried everything, but all our magic is gone."

Quistis swore softly and grabbed Seifer's hand, feeling like she needed to tether herself to him.

There wasn't any point in going all the way back to the Ragnarok now. There was nothing to do but wait for the Galbadians. Part of her was relieved. The world was saved, their job was done, and she could just lie down right here beside Seifer and drift away. But the rational part of her mind despaired. Krier and his men wouldn't arrive for hours.

"Let's start a fire outside, then," Quistis finally suggested. "At least make it easy for them to find us."

Fujin and Raijin collected the splintered wood from the door and piled it outside while Zell and Quistis cracked open several of Irvine's remaining bullets and poured the black powder out into a pile. Quistis loaded just the primer from one of the rounds into Irvine's gun and fired, the explosive charge igniting the powder with a concussive whoosh. The wood took the flame easily, and soon they had a roaring blaze.

Silently, they gathered around the fire. Seifer fell asleep almost immediately. Sometime later, so did Squall, his exhaustion getting the better of him. Quistis laid down on her side and closed her eyes but stayed awake, listening to the sound of Seifer's breathing, on silent vigil, making sure that sometime during the night he wouldn't just stop. The heavens weren't conspiring to keep him alive anymore. Now that he'd received Vidar's power, the rest of his life didn't matter to anyone except her. She breathed in sync with him and was lost in the rhythm when, deep in the night, a familiar and all-together unexpected sound roused her.

Around the now dwindling fire, everyone else sat up as well and looked up at the sky as a large ship flew over, its engines leaving white hot trails across the black night.

"Is that from Esthar?" Zell asked.

It circled once over them then banked and flew east toward the road leading into the city.

Twenty minutes later, they heard footsteps approaching. And someone called out.

"Squall!"

Laguna jogged into the firelight.

"Are you guys okay? Is — oh God, Squall?" Quistis watched as he dropped onto his knees beside his son and roused Squall from the deep sleep he'd fallen into. "Hey. Hang on. Okay? I brought help."

A group of ten Estharan field medics followed not far behind, their pastel military uniforms beautiful and their silvery medic badges glinting like sparks of life in the firelight.

0 0 0

The hospital in Esthar made Seifer miss the Garden infirmary. The nurse that checked on him every few hours wasn't a pretty little cadet or a matronly older woman; his nurse was a man in his thirties, gruff with a beard as thick and shaggy as sagebrush. And he didn't put up with any shit. Seifer had tried to resist his first bath only to find himself the middle of what felt like a prison nightmare, naked and wet, his ribs screaming as another man scrubbed under his armpits.

He was relieved when Quistis walked through his door, a small bunch of flowers in her hands. Someone had painted a fire cross on the terra cotta pot.

"From Fujin and Raijin," she explained and set it down. "I talked to your nurse. He says you're going to live. Forever even."

He sighed. "Don't start with me."

"I'm not." She held up her hands. "I'd just like to know why you did it. You risked the whole mission."

"I don't care about missions," he said, aware that the way he barked it made him sound brash and drunk. "You should know that by now. You taught me. Listen, do you think you could get me out of here? Maybe get me moved to Garden?"

"Garden's not in Esthar," she replied. "They're down in Centra."

"Centra? What the hell do they have to do down there?"

"President Krier has decided to build a new tomb for Hyne. And a monument for Rinoa. Cid volunteered to help. Esthar's got people down there, too."

"Yeah? So why are you still here?"

She pulled a chair up beside his bed and sat down. "Selphie and Squall are still in the hospital here," she replied. "Laguna has hardly left Squall's side. And Irvine is still waiting for Selphie to wake up. The doctors say she's stable — it's just a matter of time before she comes around. Squall feels pretty bad about it. Between that and Rinoa…well, he's lucky he's got Laguna around."

"Sounds like you've been all over the place," he said. "Any reason you waited until last to visit me?"

She nodded. "I don't know what to say to you."

"'Thank you' would do just fine."

She sat back in her chair and sighed. "You know, I don't even know _when_ you did it. I know it had to have been that night, our last one here in Esthar. But I don't know when. Was it when I was sleeping? Or when we…? You didn't have to. I'm amazed Vidar even let you."

"I didn't really give him a choice."

"So now what?" she asked. "What's this mean?"

"Nothing until I'm dead, I guess. Never really gave a shit what would happen then anyway, so it's not like anything has changed."

"That's not what I meant."

"So what did you mean?"

She shrugged and shook her had as if to say that she didn't know, or maybe that she just wasn't going to tell him if he didn't. He sensed that he'd missed some important subtext to their conversation.

"Listen," he said, feeling too tired to have one of these battles with her. He was in the damn hospital for God's sake. "I'm not a fucking mind-reader. If you have something you want to say, just come out say it."

Quistis's hands tightened into little balls in her lap, but her expression betrayed none of her emotions. "Okay," she said slowly. "Did you do it for me? Or yourself?"

He thought her question over seriously for a moment before answering. "Both, I think."

For a long time, she was silent. And she didn't get a chance to say anything more before Seifer's nurse walked in. He grinned at her, a row of straight horse teeth showing from behind his beard.

"You don't have to leave," he said. "Just checking in on our patient here."

"That's okay. I'll get out of your way," Quistis replied and stood up, making Seifer hate the damn nurse even more. She brushed her fingers along Seifer's arm as she left. "I'll see what I can do about getting you transferred somewhere closer to home. Okay?"

After she was gone, the nurse shook his head and pinched a heart rate monitor onto Seifer's finger. "I've seen pictures of her. But, damn…face to face? I see why she's got the fan club. You know?"

If Seifer hadn't been depending on this one man to keep him healthy, he would have ripped the nurse's eyeballs right out of his head. The violent selfishness he felt surprised him. So he said nothing, even when the other man asked him if he was "involved" with Quistis.

Involved?

It was a sissy word he didn't know how to categorize. Involved as in sex and sacrifice? He had those two down. But there wasn't much more beyond that. Was there? He had no reason ever to see her again. But he couldn't stop feeling as she walked out of his hospital room door like all he wanted was for her to turn around and come right back in.

0 0 0

Selphie's room was filled with flowers and foil balloons. Every day, Irvine refilled vases with water, took away the plants that were dying and the balloons that had withered, and replaced them with new ones. Neither were hard to come by. Trabia Garden had sent several bouquets, and so had various committees in Balamb Garden that she was a member of. Reluctantly, the hospital had been allowing him to stay overnight in her room. He drew the blinds closed on a setting sun and sat down on the cot he'd made up beside her bed.

"Hey, Irvine." Quistis walked in. "I'm heading out. Do you need anything?"

"No thanks. I'm fine."

She leaned against the frame of the door. "Any change?"

"Her brain scans are starting to show increased activity," he replied. "And she's been a little twitchy. There — did you see that? Does it all the time."

"That's great." Quistis smiled but didn't actually look happy. Four days ago, Seifer had been transferred to the hospital in Dollet. And she'd seemed uneasy ever since. "Well, give me a call if she wakes up. Goodnight."

Before he laid down on his cot for the night, he turned off the lights in Selphie's room and kissed her forehead. It wrinkled under his lips — another twitch she'd developed in the past few days. "No worries," Irvine said, like he had every night for the past week, and her face smoothed back into repose again.

"Sefie…" He looked down at her for a long time before climbing onto his cot for the night. "I love you. So wake up, okay?"

The light and bustle from the nurse's station usually kept him up at night. But tonight he fell asleep fast. And he dreamed. He dreamed of the orphanage on the beach, of fireworks and campfires, and of Selphie by his side. She didn't usually talk to him in his dreams. But tonight she handed him a stick with a marshmallow jammed on the end, flaming blue, and said his name.

"Irvy?"

He took it from her, blew out the flames, and bit into the gooey morsel. It tasted like nothing, but he smiled.

"Irvy?" she repeated.

"Right here, babe." He slung an arm around her. "Right here."

She didn't seem happy. She shifted and moved restlessly against him. And she gasped strangely, like she'd come up from a long dive.

"Hey. You okay?" he asked, the dream beginning to fragment around him. He didn't want to let it go, but it shivered and vanished, leaving him once again on the stiff hospital cot, lying in the darkened room with a glowing heart monitor not far above his head. He looked up at the upside down number: eighty six.

That seemed a little high.

"Irvy?"

"Oh my God!" He bolted upright as her heart rate ticked up again to eighty seven.

Selphie was awake.

"Sefie." He grabbed her hand and held it firm between his palms. "It's me. It's okay."

"Where am I?" she asked, her voice filled with the heavy sound of tears. "What happened?"

"You're in Esthar," he explained. "We defeated Hyne. But you were hurt. You've been out for a while. We thought — oh God — I thought you might not come back."

She groaned. "The death spell?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, Irvy. I feel awful." She reached out for him with both hands and he had to resist the urge to climb into bed beside her. Just because she was awake didn't mean she was healed, and he didn't want to do any damage. He gripped her shoulder and found that she was trembling.

"I know. Don't worry. You'll be okay," he promised as he pressed the call button.

He'd lost her heart and soul once already; it damn well wasn't going to happen again. Looking down at her as the light flashed on and a nurse rushed in, he felt like the one who'd died and come back to life.

The sun had come up — was peeking between the window blinds — when the medical staff finally left the room. Selphie was glassy with some drug they'd given her. She looked around the room at all the flowers and balloons and asked, "Is this all for me?"

"Yeah," he replied and took her hands. "All for you."

0 0 0

For over a month, Quistis stayed in Esthar and quietly helped Laguna with whatever she could while he was occupied with Squall. For a few weeks, life in the palace was idyllic. She ate her meals with Kiros and Ward where they exchanged war stories and compared father to son. In her spare time, she sat and talked with Ellone. Real girl talk, more innocent and fluffy than the Garden variety she was used to where combat and violence always seemed to leak in.

Once Squall was released, he moved into the palace, too. He had a new scar on his cheek but no other outward signs of his ordeal. Quieter than usual and still in deep mourning for Rinoa, he immediately became the center of attention. From a distance, Quistis watched as Laguna and Ellone lavished him with an excess and patience and love. They bore much of his sadness too, like they were emotionally bonded to him. And they both seemed immune to the thready fits of anger he'd become prone to.

Was this what a real family was like, she wondered?

After Selphie was released and had returned to Garden with Irvine, Quistis was packing to leave as well when Laguna knocked on her door and walked in.

"The air station just called," he said. "They're ready for you."

"Okay. I'm almost ready."

He nodded and helped her gather her things. "It's been nice having you here. I just want you to know that. You've been a lot of help."

Laguna walked with her all the way to the lift that led outside.

"Once the monument in Centra is done, were going to have a memorial for Rinoa. I'll see you there?"

"Yeah. Of course."

He scooped her up in a crushing hug, puffing in her ear as the embrace squeezed the air out of him. "Have a safe flight. Okay?"

As she walked away from the palace toward the air station, the memory of Laguna's parting hug made her feel lonely. The flight back to Garden would take several hours. And once she landed…what then? With Squall staying in Esthar, Selphie and Irvine reconnecting, and Zell taking vacation time to visit his family in Balamb, there wasn't much to go back to but work. The thought left her hollow.

A small passenger ship was waiting at the air station for her. The pilot glanced away from his diagnostics when she got on.

"Where to?" he asked.

She sat down and buckled herself in, taking the moment to consider her options before replying.

"How about Dollet?"

"This ship doesn't hold enough fuel to get all the way there and back."

"Okay. Could you drop me off in Balamb, then?"

"Yeah. No problem." He took off and turned the ship west.

In Balamb, she bought train tickets and then got something to eat at a little seaside restaurant. She had half of her meal and a slice of cake boxed and ate it on board the long, dark train trip to Timber. Her connecting train to Dollet was a more pleasant ride which she spent looking out the windows, watching Galbadia pass by.

It was early evening by the time she arrived in Dollet. And some of her confidence had begun to flag. Would Seifer still be content living in this sleepy little town now that he was a hero? He'd probably moved to Deling City weeks ago, she thought as she walked down the cobblestone road and looked out over the harbor at the bobbing ships. She'd been shocked to find him here in the first place — his ego didn't seem to allow for such an unmarked existence. At the very least, she hoped Raijin or Fujin might still be in town and able to tell her where Seifer had gone.

The darkened windows of his house stood out along his well-lit street. Quistis walked up to the door and knocked. When no one answered, she waited and knocked twice more before sighing and shifting her heavy backpack higher on her shoulders.

_What now?_

She couldn't just curl up on their doorstep and wait for someone to come home. After pacing between the street and the door, she could think of only one other friendly face in Dollet.

The pub was already busy when she walked beneath its brightly lit sign and into the bar. Some of the faces she remembered, most of them belonging to guys she'd beaten at cards or pool, but no one paid any attention to her as she walked up to the bar and pulled out a stool, dropping her backpack with a grunt of relief. The bartender was busy refilling glasses for a group of rowdy sailors who looked like they'd just gotten back in port from a long trip. They were scruffy and overexcited but were tipping well.

Above the bar, the television was tuned to the local news and playing without sound. The news team cut to a reporter in the field who was shading her eyes from the sun and gesturing behind her toward a vista that was partially obscured by a boxy yellow truck. The camera panned back and she turned to a man dressed in a khaki vest, blue denim shirt, and a pair of corduroys. "Cid Kramer: Balamb Garden Headmaster" appeared beneath him as he began to talk.

"Hell." Someone sat down on the empty stool next to her and slapped a newspaper down against the bar. "I sort of thought that maybe I'd see you one day walking into the library, taking some sort of field trip with Chicken Wuss. Or, you know, at the _goddamn hospital_ about three weeks ago. But the pub?"

Quistis turned.

"Come to visit me?" Seifer asked and grinned. His hair was a little out of sorts, rebellious curls forming around his collar where he hadn't bothered to get a trim, and a dusting of stubble sprinkled his jaw.

"I don't know. Are you happy to see me?" she countered.

The bartender came by, but Seifer waved him away.

"Depends."

"On?"

"Whether you're here for business or pleasure."

Quistis smiled. "You look good. Everything okay? You're feeling alright?"

"Yeah. Great."

"Is Vidar…?"

"Around. But he doesn't bother me much."

"Bahamut's been different since the battle," Quistis replied. "More subdued. He's not like he used to be."

Seifer grunted. "Business then, huh?" He turned on his stool so that his knees were pressing against her thigh. "You going to give me the full update on Squall now? Or tell me next how the messenger girl is doing? Because I'll save you the time, Quistis, and tell you that I don't really give a damn."

"What would you rather talk about?"

"Why you're here," he replied.

Shifting under his heavy, penetrating gaze, she said, "I think you know why."

"I wouldn't count on it. It's a goddamned mystery to me what goes on in your head most of the time."

He was just being a bully now, she thought, trying to make her come out and say what she didn't want to: that she'd missed him and that his act of sacrifice made her feel bound to him. It was all a bit much to discuss in a noisy bar in front of half the town.

"I just came to visit you," she said.

He glanced down at her backpack. "Need a place to stay?"

"Yeah."

"How about my place? You won't have to sleep on the couch this time."

"That would be…" She had to pause as he leaned forward and kissed her. The gesture surprised her and she was left speechless, hanging forward as if waiting for him to do it again. In public, Seifer was a different kind of person than he was in private. The public facing Seifer was hard and abrasive and arrogant. He certainly didn't kiss. Not like that, anyway.

"Let's go, then," he said and bent down to retrieve her bag. The straps were too tight for him, so he slung it over one shoulder.

There was no pretext of a mission now, and she was very aware as she followed him out the pub door that she was choosing to spend time with him. She didn't dwell too long on why, not ready to think much about the possibilities that came up. The most unsettling of all was the prospect that she had grown used to and even fond of his personal brand of companionship. She felt bereft without it now. All of the irritation he caused was easy to forget.

They walked back to his house, where he fished his keys out of his pants pocket and unlocked the door. The house hadn't changed any since Quistis had seen it last, though someone had put a bowl of fresh raspberries on the table. They still smelled like dark earth and sunshine. Quistis popped one into her mouth and chewed slowly.

"No one else is home?" she asked.

"Raijin's working late tonight," Seifer replied. "I dunno where the hell Fu's at." He stopped close to her and watched her eat another raspberry, his eyes following her hand and then lingering on her mouth. When she reached for another, he grabbed her arm and pivoted his body between her and the table.

"There's some champagne in the fridge," he said. "And I've been waiting to get you in the hot tub."

"I don't have a bathing suit."

He shrugged and grinned.

Quistis stayed inside and poured two glasses of champagne while Seifer went out on the deck, leaving the door open behind him so that the curtains wafted in and out on the breeze. They didn't have proper flutes, so Quistis used two mugs stamped with the local junk shop logo. She dropped several large, ripe berries into each cup, then thought better and grabbed the entire bowl before joining Seifer on the deck.

He was already startlingly naked, water beaded along the wide ridges of his shoulders, his ass tight enough to springboard off of as he turned on the jets and climbed over the edge into the whirling, frothing pool.

"Come on," he said as he sat down, sinking up to his armpits in the water.

Quistis handed him his glass, then sat down hers along with the bowl of raspberries she'd balanced on top. Seifer ate, drank, and grinned while she took off her shoes.

"When is Raijin getting off work?" she asked.

Seifer shrugged.

"And you don't know when Fujin's getting back?"

"Just take your damn clothes off and get in here."

"They could walk in on us. Or…_out_ on us? Can your neighbors see your deck?"

"Oh my God." He put his champagne glass down and grabbed her with warm, wet hands. They unbuttoned her pants and pulled her shirt up. She drew the line at her bra and panties and wore both as she joined him in the hot tub.

Quistis had once been to a natural hot spring in Esthar. The water there was sulfurous — a property that the brochures claimed made the springs good for everything from curing dry skin to soothing minor cuts and burns — and had left her with a strange, infernal smell long after she'd left and showered.

Seifer's hot tub was not the same. She smelled nothing but pungent liquor and dark berries. And Seifer's toes were moving up the inside of her leg. This place was all seduction. What surprised her was the relaxation of it, the familiarity, the downright heart-melting bliss.

A long breath escaped Quistis as she moved next to Seifer and settled in the crook of his arm. She sank down deep in the water and took a long drink from her glass. The champagne was heavy in her stomach, like a thick morning fog. She lay there in it, pressed against Seifer's side, and stared up at the sky up above. A moth fluttered overhead and through the open door into the house.

"Why were you at the pub, anyway?" Seifer asked.

"Huh?"

"Seems like you spend a lot of time there."

Quistis rolled her head along his arm so that she was looking at him. "The pub owner," she said, and Seifer nodded. "I think he might be my father."

A brief, stunned silence stretched. Then Seifer asked, "Why?"

Quistis explained about the pub owner's wife, their daughter, the boat accident in the harbor, and the photograph she'd taken from the pub of Helene Selune, who looked so much like her. It was a dream. And Quistis cringed as she spoke, realizing how flimsy and desperate it sounded — how very cliche _orphan_ it was to latch on to some unsuspecting, kind stranger because it was impossible to think that her real family could have left her, or that they might all be dead.

"I guess it's possible," Seifer said, surprising her. "Crazier shit has happened. And this guy sure as hell seems like to you, too. Right? If he wants to be your family, and you want him to be…then do it."

"You don't think it's a little weird?" she asked. "I mean, what am I supposed to do? Walk up to him and say, _will you be my daddy?"_

"Sure. He'll either say yes, and you'll live happily ever after. Or he'll say no, and you'll go back to Garden. Right?"

The way Seifer saw the world, marked by clear contrasts, was usually something that frustrated Quistis. He didn't always seem aware of the gray areas that she lived her life in. But maybe, she thought as she sat next to him, a little bit of his kind of black and white in her life could be a good thing. This was something she wanted. And she'd never been shy about going after what she wanted before. Maybe she needed to stop questioning the concept of family and just just seize the opportunity.

"You could inherit the place when the old man goes tits up," Seifer said suddenly and laughed. "Can you imagine? The place'd be overflowing with goddamned Trepies."

"Well, I'd hire you as my bouncer," she replied. "And Raijin could tend bar, maybe cook a little, too. Fujin could keep the books."

"And what are you going to do? Sit on your ass all day?"

"I'm only there to look pretty. I bring in the crowd, remember?"

She was relaxed and a little buzzed from the champagne. But she was aware that their teasing had a new quality to it: a future. They would know each other forever now.

"You know, having Vidar in my head," Seifer said, his voice low and quiet, "knocked a few memories loose. Some about the war — Ultimecia. And some about my parents."

Quistis had to force herself not to turn and look at him; she didn't want to spook him. "Your parents?"

"In Esthar. They were…uh…politicians, I think. They worked with Adel. Funny, right? Fucking ironic. I remember them a little bit though. We lived in this huge high rise apartment. You could see the whole damn city out the windows. But my parents weren't around much. Always off doing something. And I'd see them once in a while on TV. I really remember seeing them on TV."

Quistis leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Thing is what I _don't_ remember. Normal things like…I dunno…meals together? Or playing with my dad? It's all just blank. Like it was always just me and some holographic, TV image of them. And I don't know if I just don't remember, or if they really didn't give a damn."

"I'm sure they loved you," Quistis said. "You were their son. How couldn't they?"

"I don't know. But I remember some of the orphanage, too. And it was a whole different world. I know that for sure."

"There were some good times at the orphanage," Quistis said, not quite sure what to make of what he'd told her.

"I know. They were all good to me…beating up Chicken Wuss, swimming, climbing." He puffed out a sigh and added, in a quieter voice full of affection, "Matron."

Under the water, Quistis put her hand on his thigh and felt him relax.

They each had a second glass of champagne before getting out of the hot tub. Quistis dried off with Seifer's shirt and he pulled his boxers back on long enough to walk back through the kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom. Quistis followed, lightheaded and pleased with her life.

His room didn't look how she'd imagined it. It was surprisingly neat, everything put away and organized, not a lot of knick-knacks sitting around and no pictures on the walls. The bed wasn't made, but it wasn't messy either. There was something Quistis had always found intrinsically inviting and comfortable about a man's bed. She blamed that feeling, the champagne, and her wet underwear for why Seifer effortlessly maneuvered her into his. But there was something else, too. Late that night, she felt it folding over her as she drifted off to sleep, the wall at her back and Seifer right beside her.

It wasn't love. Not yet.

But maybe someday, she thought with a sigh, it could be.

0 0 0

Thirst woke Quistis up early the next morning. She tried to ignore it by wetting her lips, swallowing, and burrowing further under the covers. But soon she couldn't stay in bed any longer. Seifer didn't notice as she climbed over him, grabbed his shirt from the night before off the floor, and pulled it on.

In the kitchen, she fished a glass out of one of the cupboards and filled it from the tap. She looked out the window as she drank at the sky tinged yellow with early dawn and the neighboring houses, all built in the same quaint style. Dollet really was a nice place to live.

She left her cup in the sink and started up the stairs back to Seifer's bedroom, meaning to get back into bed next to him and while away the morning in her dreams. But as she got to the top of the stairs, Fujin's door opened.

Dr. Shipey froze in the doorway when he saw Quistis.

"Um…" He smiled too big. "Hi."

He was holding his shoes in one hand, and through the open neck of his mostly unbuttoned shirt, Quistis could see a crescent shaped bruise that was either a bite mark or a very serious hickey.

"Hi," Quistis replied.

"I was just leaving," he explained quickly and shut Fujin's door. "I've got to get back to Deling City. I've got an…um…a class. They've rehired me, did you know? Since the finds in Centra and all. Well…" He trailed off, then adjusted his glasses and gestured to Quistis. "I can see you're busy. I won't keep you."

"Right. Okay."

They turned away from one another, the awkwardness a palpable force pushing them apart, urging Quistis back into the safety of Seifer's bedroom.

Then the front door opened.

And before Quistis and Dr. Shipey could get out of each other's way, both desperate not to touch the other in the confines of the narrow hallway, Raijin appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He was dressed from head to toe in fishing gear: green waders, a net over one shoulder, and even wearing a floppy hat with hooks pushed through the brim.

He stared up at them and dropped his tackle box. Quistis pulled Seifer's shirt down as far as she could to cover herself up and tried to pretend that she wasn't blushing.

"What?" someone else asked, and a moment later Zell appeared next to Raijin, dressed in the same elaborate fishing get-up.

"Zell!" Quistis stepped behind Dr. Shipey. "What are you doing here?"

"Me?" His eyes were huge. "I went fishing with Raij." He held up a bit of line that three still wet fish were hanging from. One was oozing slime. "How come _you're _here?"

Zell looked up at Raijin for some explanation. The other man groaned and threw his arms up in the air.

"I'm done, ya know?" He snatched the fish from Zell and turned to walk into the kitchen, grumbling, "All these damn secrets! A guy can't keep them all!"

Zell looked up the stairs at Quistis one more time before following him, and as they vanished into the kitchen together, she heard him whisper in amazement, "Oh my God. You _knew_ that Quistis has been sleeping with Dr. Shipey?"

Before anyone else arrived in time to see her in Seifer's underwear, Quistis ducked back into Seifer's bedroom. He was awake but hadn't bothered to get out of bed. "What's going on?" he asked and stretched his arms above his head. "Was that Chicken Wuss I heard? I swear to God, I told Raijin to stop bringing that asshole around here."

"Zell has been hanging around here?" she asked.

"Yeah. Him and Raij are all buddy-buddy now or something."

She climbed back into bed with him.

"If they're cooking, we're better off just staying up here," he said and pulled her close. "Trust me. Raij has been trying to teach the Wuss to cook, and it's damn ugly. Smells bad, too." Quistis sighed as he ran his fingers through her hair.

"Okay," she said and settled back against him, content for the moment to stay right where she was.

0 0 0

Centra was a place of pain for Squall. Everything there reminded him of Rinoa: the sunshine, the chirping desert birds, the scent of flowers in the air. He remembered much of what had happened. But he still couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when she had stopped being Rinoa and had become Hyne. Her appearance had never changed to him. Even in the tower in the Centran palace, when he'd climbed the stairs and found her dead, she'd been Rinoa — her black hair fanned out like a blood stain on the floor, her face pale and empty. In his dreams, that was what he saw. It was his last memory of her. And it ripped him apart to think that it was just a figment of Hyne's power.

So he was hesitant to get off the Balder when it landed in Centra near the monument the Galbadians and Balamb Garden had built to house Hyne's body. He was afraid that now the spell would have worn off and he would see what Rinoa had really become.

He didn't want to remember her as Hyne. Just Rinoa.

Ever since he'd woken up in the hospital in Esthar, he'd wondered if he could have done anything to save her. Had she asked him for help and he hadn't been able to hear? And he wondered how the end had finally come — whether she was still there, locked inside what her body had become, when Seifer had charged up the stairs and split her in half.

"Come on, Squall." Laguna put a hand on his back. "They're waiting for us."

They walked down the exit ramp together. A large crowd had gathered, reporters and media kept outside a roped off area from behind which they were flashing pictures and speaking into cameras with large, bulbous microphones.

Laguna had shown Squall some schematics for the monument, but this was the first time he'd seen it in person. Although he didn't like the idea of something being built for Hyne and would have rather mourned on his own, he had to admit that the building was impressive. It was white and gleaming in the sun, made out of polished rock and green, frosted glass. Two soldiers flanked the door: one Galbadian, one from Esthar. They nodded to Laguna and Squall as they passed through into the structure.

The first room was large and sunny. The walls were covered in glass cases that were filled with photographs, plaques, and personal mementos chronicling Rinoa's life. Rows of collapsible chairs were set up and filled with mourners. Everyone was dressed in black, contrasting sharply with the bright space.

"Squall." General Caraway stood up from his chair near the front. He'd grayed considerably since Squall had last seen him, and his cheeks were mottled with spots of red from his tears. "I'm glad you were able to make it."

Squall nodded.

"I saved you both a spot." Caraway gestured to the two empty seats next to him.

As Squall walked forward to sit down, he examined the crowd that had gathered, wondering who the people were that he didn't recognize and exchanging half-hearted greetings with those he did. Zone and Watts were there, along with several other people who Squall guessed were from the Timber Owls. Several high-ranking Galbadian officials were seated together also, right behind General Caraway, including President Krier. And on the other side of the room, a significant crowd from Balamb Garden had gathered.

Ellone was sitting beside Cid and Edea. Even the old Disciplinary Committee was there. Seifer was sitting beside Quistis, one arm slung across her shoulders.

Squall felt strange as he sat down. He'd never been to a funeral before. And the fact that everyone's attention seemed riveted on him made him uncomfortable.

The service was quick but heartfelt. Squall sat with his head down, not listening to most of what was said, afraid that thinking too hard about Rinoa might make him cry. And although he felt sure no one would say anything about it if he did, he didn't want to cry in public. Laguna reached over at one point and patted his shoulder. And then, when he wasn't sure he could take anymore, it was over.

He and General Caraway stood side by side to receive condolences personally as some sad song by Julia Heartilly played.

Everyone said the same thing: a brief "_I'm so sorry" _here and a "_Let me know if there's anything I can do" _there.

Selphie launched herself up into Squall's arms, a black beret flying off her head, and began sobbing with zest. Irvine carefully extracted her and settled her hat back on her head before guiding her out the door.

Quistis was more restrained, but she hugged him as well. And Seifer, who followed her, slapped Squall on the shoulder.

"I knew her, too, you know," he said. "It's not like I wanted to…"

"I know," Squall replied. "You did what you had to."

"Just don't think that it's your fault or anything," Seifer continued. "You put up one hell of a fight. Rinoa picked herself a damn good knight."

"Seifer…" Quistis grabbed his arm. "I don't think that's what Squall wants to hear right now."

"No. It's okay," Squall replied.

Seifer's acknowledgement that he'd played his part as Rinoa's knight well, better than anyone else could have, eased his guilt somewhat. His only real failure had been in not being able to honor her last wish. Rinoa had always said it would be okay if someone killed her if she started to go bad, so long as that person was Squall. Even when he'd promised her that he would, he'd known that he couldn't. So he was glad that, at least in some respect, Seifer had been able to honor her request and release her from Hyne's grip.

"See," Seifer said and elbowed Quistis as they walked away. "Told you I have _empathy_."

After everyone had said their piece and filed out, only Squall, Laguna, and General Caraway remained.

"Ready to go?" Laguna asked.

Squall shook his head. "Could I have a minute or two alone?"

"Sure. I'll wait outside for you."

Laguna and Caraway walked out together, leaving Squall standing in the middle of the room, accompanied only by the smiling photographs of Rinoa on the walls. For the first time, he let himself look closely at them. There were pictures of her from when she was a baby, snuggled in the arms of her mother Julia. And there were photos of her as a little girl, fat-cheeked, wearing ribbons in her dark hair. Time flowed around the room and she aged until his eyes reached the last photo on the right. It was of her standing next to the Balamb Garden directory, framed above the folded uniform that she'd gotten as an honorary SeeD after the Ultimecia mission.

Turning around, he climbed a few steps toward the back of the room and opened the door to the tomb. The room was dark and small with no windows. A huge casket sat in the middle, sunk halfway into the floor. The Galbadians had put the last bits of Hyne's body here, and tomorrow it was going to be sealed with concrete. If he was going to look, he knew he had to do it now. And though he didn't want to, he couldn't imagine spending the rest of his life wondering.

The lid was heavy and difficult to move on his own. With all his weight against it, he managed to scrape an opening large enough to see in with the light from the open door behind him.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting. A monster maybe? Bits of bone and flesh and bat wings?

But he wasn't expecting to see Rinoa's face, pale and in flawless. Her lips were slightly parted as if waiting for breath. And her eyelashes spread elegant crescents across her cheeks.

Squall dropped to his knees, holding onto the edge of the coffin with one arm, and stared at her, not sure if Hyne's spell was still acting on him or, if after so many weeks, Rinoa's body had finally returned to its real form. He reached out with one hand and brushed his knuckle gently down her cheek to her chin. She was cold and still.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you," he told her quietly.

In the privacy of her tomb, he relaxed the band of restraint he'd closed around his heart and let it bleed. It ached for her, for the future that they could have had and the bleak one lying before him now.

"And I want you to know," he continued, "that we all forgive you. Okay? For everything Hyne did." He paused, put his forehead down against his arm. "And for leaving me behind. I forgive you. And I love you."

He raised his head again to look at her, wanting to take in everything about her so that he could remember her clearly for the rest of his days.

"Bye, Rinoa."

Too weak to move the lid back and hesitant to cover up her face when she still looked so alive, he left the coffin ajar and turned to walk out. The sunlit memorial, still full of the happy memories everyone had gathered to share, waited for him. He stopped a few steps from the doorway, something strange prickling at his mind. It was an old feeling, an electrical shiver. He reached out with one hand and felt it spearing up from the earth — magic. Fisting his hand in the long tendrils of power, he pulled them up into his body until he could make out what he'd found.

_Life_.

As he pulled the last of the magic from the draw point, he thought he heard a rush in his head, something snapping and ruffling. The sound settled into a steady _whomp, whomp_. He froze. Was that…?

He turned, and his heart soared with sublime relief and pure, unfettered love.

It was.

_Angel wings._

**End Notes**

First and foremost, I would like to thank my beta, Zachere, who has taught me more in the past few months about writing than I have learned on my own in the past few years. It has been an _honor_ to work with her. And this story is immeasurably better thanks to her involvement.

I would also like to extend my gratitude to meandering_mynd, who sat with me through countless nights of writerly induced angst. It's more than I would ask of any friend.

And everyone who has ever been a member of the Seiftis Forever message board should receive my thanks here as well. Seifer and Quistis came to me at the best possible moment in my life, and they brought with them a fantastic group of people who gave me a wonderful place to learn and grow. I hope you're all well, wherever you are.

Now, a bit of credit where credit is due:

1) Dr. Shipey is loosely based on Dr. Thomas Shipey, the noted Medievalist and Tolkien scholar -- you may have seen him on the Lord of the Rings DVD's. I'm very, very sorry for this, Dr. Shipey.

2) I've made numerous references to the Mana games, also by Square including: Duran from Forcena, the concept of God Beasts, and the names of several Galbadian ships (the Rolante & the Hawkeye).

3) I have also alluded to quoted the poems "The Second Coming" by William Butler Yeats and "Dover Beach" by Matthew Arnold whenever possible. They provided much of the framework for my imagery through this whole story.

4) My mythology is largely a conglomeration of two real mythologies: Norse and Gnostic. From Norse mythology, I have drawn the names of all my Estharan air ships (Heimdall, Balder, etc.), Vidar, Jormangand, Fenrir, berserkers, and several bits and pieces of the Ragnarok as described in the Edda's. From Gnosticism (a second century Christian movement), I have drawn the concept of multiple heavens, divine emanations, aeons, archons, an omnipresent and unknowable god, and my title.

5) Likewise, my history is a combination of information gleaned from in game tutorials (such as the legend of Vascaroon and the colonization of Esthar and Dollet by Centra) and real life historical places. The catacombs in Dollet were based off of those in Rome and Paris. The tomb of Hyne was based off that of the fist Qin Emporer in China. And the temple city in the Centran desert was inspired by the Roussanou Monastery in Greece.

And now, at long last, my story is done. It's sill not quite what I had hoped it would be, and a mild revision is on the way. I knew when I started working on this (three years ago!), that this was going to be my last piece of Final Fantasy 8 fan fiction. After writing the same characters for eight years, I think I've finally said all that I have to say. I hope you've enjoyed reading my stories as much as I've enjoyed writing them.

Much love,  
Ms Starlight


End file.
